Final Illuminations
by Malenkaya
Summary: RE movie fanfiction. In this sequel to Fading Away and Into the Light, Alice, Michael, Rain and J.D continue in their efforts to defeat Umbrella, finding along the way new allies, new enemies—and new hope for Matthew Addison. Final Chapter up.
1. Chapter One: Echoing Silence

Title: Final Illuminations

Author: Malenkaya

Rating: R for violence and swearing

Summary: RE movie fanfiction. In this sequel to "Fading Away" and "Into the Light", Alice, Michael, Rain and J.D continue in their efforts to defeat Umbrella, finding along the way new allies, new enemies—and new hope for Matthew Addison.

Disclaimer: Due to the fact that nobody out there seems to be using it, I now own Resident Evil and all it's franchise:) I expect to become very, very rich over the next few days.

I am, of course, just kidding :) I own nothing here but my own ideas.

Feedback: Please! I live and breathe reviews! Flames, as long as they're explanatory, are fine.

Author's Notes:

Hello again to all former readers, and welcome to those who are new. I highly suggest you read "Fading Away" and "Into the Light" first if you want to fully understand "Final Illuminations".

Firstly, as you most likely have noticed, yes, this chapter has been posted before. However, with the addition of an actual title, I was forced to replace the former, although the content remains the same. Thanks very much to all those who read and continue to review, I really appreciate it.

If you'd like to review again, please feel free to do so, as all reviews will probably be lost in the process :)

Chapter two will be up this Friday for those interested.

Chapter One: Echoing Silence

"We stayed in the hotel room for another month before Hades found us."

_Creak._

_Alice shot out of bed, breathing harshly, wide blue eyes taking in the room around her._

_It was empty, almost eerily calm; Michael lay next to her, snoring softly, and the bed across from them was bare._

_Rain and J.D had obviously gone out again. _

_She let out a sharp sigh, pushing wavy blond locks of hair behind her ear as she gathered her thoughts, glancing around the room for the source of the noise. _

_The door was still closed, and even from here Alice could see the locks on it were still firmly clasped. _

_Another creaking sound rang through the room, and she slipped out of the covers effortlessly, her bare feet padding the soft carpet as she stood, her posture cautious as she took in the plain scene around her—_

_And finally identified the source of the noise._

_The Bellagio's master bedroom housed a full wall of floor to ceiling length windows, loosely covered by silky blue curtains sweeping over the floor._

_One of the windows was open, and the weights at the bottoms of the curtains creaked ever so slightly as they slid in and out of the gap, dancing like ghosts in the wind._

_Resisting the urge to shiver, Alice crossed the room and shut the window._

_Instant silence; but a chill still ran through the room, and Alice was uneasy._

_Part of her knew that, logically, things here were safe; that there hadn't been an attack since they'd arrived here. Part of her wanted to forget that she'd woken up, crawl back into bed and catch up on some much-needed sleep, lose herself in dreams of the love she'd lost weeks ago._

_But a bigger part of her— the part Matt had always called her leadership side, the one which Rain had given the sarcastic nickname of "Mommy", the one which she had always depended upon to get them through another battle— wouldn't let her relax. _

_Almost as a second thought, she lifted the automatic handgun off the side table where she left it when she slept, flicking the safety off absentmindedly as she stared out the window._

_She wished J.D and Rain would stop leaving during the night. She knew that they were both adults, that they could technically do whatever the hell they wanted to— but she still felt responsible for their group, for their safety._

_She still felt guilty for Matt, for the drastic errors she had made on that last mission to the Hive, and had resolved never to make the same disastrous mistakes with what was left of her team. _

_The doorknob moved._

_Alice snapped to attention, leveling her gun at the door, moving to the bed to wake up Michael, to warn him—_

_But then she heard a quiet snicker on the other side, followed by J.D's characteristically drunken giggling, and lowered it in exasperation as the door crashed open and J.D and Rain came stumbling in, both of them obviously completely drunk. _

_"Oh." Rain stopped dead when she saw Alice standing there glaring at her, offering a weak grin. "Oops."_

_She laughed. J.D laughed stupidly in response._

_Alice just stood there, torn between two responses— the first being anger, irritation, and exasperation with their recklessness. Umbrella was still looking for them, and they were wandering around Las Vegas completely drunk, most likely unarmed—_

_But they were safe. Michael was safe, and things were fine, there was no reason to feel so uneasy---_

_And then the window crashed open, and in a blazing mess of shattered glass and blood, Hades came flying in._

"We didn't have a chance," Alice concluded grimly.

"Last time Hades had attacked us, we'd had five people fighting it; and we still lost. We lost Kaplan, and we still couldn't beat it."

She shifted slightly, closing her eyes against the thought of Kaplan, at the guilt the memory brought up inside of her as she finished softly,

"This time, there was no way any of us were going to get out of there alive."

_She was looking through a river of redness and gore._

_Blood was trickling down her forehead, into her eyes, and where Alice lay, slumped against the wall where Hades had thrown her, she couldn't even lift a hand to wipe it away. _

_Her skin was burning where Hades had touched her._

_She could hear J.D and Rain shouting, and was amazed despite herself at how well they could still work despite their lack of sobriety._

_Michael, like her, had already been incapacitated; she couldn't hear him moving, and was worried he'd been knocked unconscious, injured badly, or worse, killed. _

_Hades was roaring, and the sound of it filled her ears as it turned, advancing on her again, and she watched blearily, cringing despite herself at the remnants of her husband that she could still see in his face—_

_And then Rain and J.D were there again, tearing him away, and he turned, latching onto Rain's shoulder—_

_And then Rain was screaming in pain, louder than Alice had ever heard her; and J.D was shouting her name, pulling her out of harm's way even as Hades advanced on them._

_And watching them then, through the haze of bloody pain, Alice understood it was already over._

_They were lost. _

_And then he entered the room. _

_With a single bullet, he brought Hades down, screaming in pain, leaving Alice staring dumbly; they'd been shooting the monstrosity with what felt like a thousand bullets, and _none_ of them had even slowed down the mutation—_

_And while Hades was distracted, fallen just as the rest of them were, he turned to her, flicking white blond hair out of his eyes, shouting, "Are you okay?"_

_Alice couldn't answer, and he swore, starting for her—_

_But Hades was standing again, and he turned instead, aiming a silvery gun at the monster's forehead—_

_And pulled the trigger._

_Alice watched, braced herself; she was aware suddenly of Michael standing beside her, injecting her with something even as he held a cloth over her forehead, slowing the bleeding slightly. Hades stumbled—_

_And screaming, turned and leapt, with a violent crash, back out the window through which he'd come. _

_Alice could hear hotel guests and other passerby screaming outside, and stood unsteadily, taking the steady shoulder Michael offered her. _

_Her vision was clearing, and she realized suddenly that Michael had injected her with a surge of adrenaline, nodding her thanks to him as she pulled away, staring at the stranger—_

_Who was staring back at her, blue-grey eyes unreadable as he said shortly, "This will only incapacitate him for a temporary amount of time, we really should be going."_

_He spoke with a slight Russian accent, lending to his words a crisp politeness absurd in the scene, and Alice wanted to ask who he was, how he'd gotten here, why the hell he was even here helping them—_

_But J.D and Rain were hustling past her, Michael following closely behind, and Alice realized this wasn't the time to be asking questions._

_Following the stranger's lead, they took a back entrance out of the hotel, past the still screaming crowd, and through the city, ending up finally in a back alley behind one of Vegas's more seedy strip clubs before they had to stop, Michael leaning against the wall, all five of them panting harshly. _

_"We're far enough now that Hades will report to Umbrella headquarters before coming after you again," the man said, exhaustion lending a harsh tone to his voice._

_He threw the silvery gun on the ground, and for the first time, Alice could clearly see the words written across the butt of it._

Property of Umbrella Corporation.

_"They'll immunize him against this," he said, his tone disgusted. "It's of no use now."_

_They were all gaping at him, but Rain, true to her nature, was first to break the shocked silence._

_"Who the fuck are you?" she asked sharply._

_He looked distinctly surprised, his blue eyes icy and cold as he glanced at her._

_"I'm Alexei Demitrov," he said._

"He saved us, he's been with us ever since, and none of us know who he is."

Alice let out a heavy breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The stone was cool and solid against her fingertips, calming her slightly as she added, "We know his backstory, everything Olivia told us. We know where he's from, and he says he's interested in taking down the Corporation."

"Other than that, we know nothing. We have no idea who he's allied with, or whether or not we're supposed to trust him now."

She wished Matt was here, that he could meet Alexei and know him the way they all did now. Matt had always been the best judge of character, and even now...

"Rain trusts him completely," she said abruptly. "The two of them couldn't stand each other in the beginning, and now they're inseparable. J.D already hates him, and Michael... I'm not sure what Michael thinks."

She paused, before adding softly, "And after Olivia, I don't trust anyone. Not anymore."

Another person who'd died under her watch; the only death she hadn't felt guilty for.

It had been because of Olivia that Matt had ended up locked beneath the Hive, left to mutate, to die alone; it had been Olivia who'd wormed her way into their group, forcing them to trust her, only to turn and betray them all as soon as the need suited her.

Alice didn't know what J.D had done to the biochemist. She didn't want to know.

But whatever it was, she knew Olivia deserved it, just as Archangelo had deserved his ultimate fate.

Her fingers were tracing the cool stone almost absentmindedly, spelling out words she'd already learned by heart; words she'd spoken herself, time and time again, and continued to even now, even when she knew he was beyond hearing anymore.

"I don't know what to do," she said abruptly. "Every decision I make, I'm terrified I'm making the wrong choice; that we'll end up trapped again, like we were in the Hive. That I'll lose another team member because of another stupid choice I've made, and I don't—"

She leaned her forehead against the rough stone, and wished, not for the first time, that he was here with her; that he would wrap his arms around her, tell her that it was all okay, help her to lead this team; to keep them all safe again.

Her eyes were closed, and she could feel a tear begin to escape as she continued, "I keep remembering that last day— forcing all of you into the room with me, being attacked. Dragging Rain along to the point of collapse, ignoring Michael completely. Putting everything into Olivia, just to save you—"

"And I knew," she continued bitterly, cutting off her own words, "That she would betray us. God, I _knew_, and I was desperate enough—I still trusted her."

She was quiet for a moment, feeling the tears slip freely down her cheeks as she whispered, "Matt, I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore, and I need you so badly—"

"Miss?"

She looked up in surprise, years of training in armed combat giving way to a defensive position, her hand flying to her concealed handgun before realizing that it was only a kid, his brown eyes nervous as he stared at her.

He was carrying a shovel, his red hair messy around his young face as he said apologetically, "Miss, the cemetery is closing. You need to be going now."

She stared at him blankly for a moment, and then muttered some words of assent, pushing her hair back behind her ears as she suddenly took in the shocking normality of the scene she was in— sitting in front of a tombstone, a fresh bouquet of pink roses clutched in her hand, blond hair messy and eyes red.

Like an ordinary, innocent girl, mourning the loss of a boyfriend or lover.

Alice wished it were that simple.

Somewhere along the way, the light rain she'd walked here in had turned into a torrential downpour, raindrops sliding through her hair and off her black raincoat, dropping soundlessly onto the grass beneath her.

She waited until the worker had moved beyond hearing range before turning back to the smooth headstone in front of her.

The inscription was simple: _Matthew Jason Addison. 1977-2004. _

It was all they could think of to write, all they'd wanted to write. Matt was so much more than some ridiculous inscription, and none of them had been able to stand the typical, weak sentiments on the other headstones.

_Matthew Addison— A Loving Friend._

_Matthew Addison— We Miss You._

_Matthew Addison— You Walk Among The Angels Now._

Matt had always walked among the angels.

Alice touched the inscription softly, letting the flowers drop from her numb hands to the grass beneath them.

"Tomorrow's the final battle," she said softly, wiping way a final tear as she added, "We're going to beat Umbrella, and we're going to finish this, once and for all."

Once she had been terrified; and now she knew only a grim sort of determination, a dark sort of certainty in their mission.

All that was left was victory; failure was unacceptable.

There was too much riding on this mission now. Alice had been ready to give up, had been ready to hand the reins over to Michael, leave to God knows where— anything, to get away from the memories and her own uncertainties and guilt.

But then he'd found her last week, had cornered her with the unarguable news. Had finally done what no one else had been able to.

He'd given her something worth fighting for.

"Matt," she whispered. "It's not too late."

"Matt, there's still a cure."


	2. Chapter Two: From the Ashes

Title: Final Illuminations

Author: Malenkaya

Rating: R for violence and swearing

Summary: RE movie fanfiction. In this sequel to "Fading Away" and "Into the Light", Alice, Michael, Rain and J.D continue in their efforts to defeat Umbrella, finding along the way new allies, new enemies—and new hope for Matthew Addison.

Disclaimer: Due to the fact that nobody out there seems to be using it, I now own Resident Evil and all it's franchise:) I expect to become very, very rich over the next few days.

I am, of course, just kidding:) I own nothing here but my own ideas.

Feedback: Please! I live and breathe reviews! Flames, as long as they're explanatory, are fine.

Author's Notes:

Firstly, I'd like to thank the following for their wonderful reviews: DarkPrincessPyro99, XMaster, Gabzilla, rain1657, sarahvspsycheotic, masked-in-your-shadows, Violet Eternity, and Kim Hughes; I really appreciate it.

To all of those who read and don't review—please review. Honestly, it makes my day.

Once again, I apologize for the long wait:) On the bright side… updates will now continue on their regular basis of every second Friday, meaning chapter three will be posted on October 14th.

Chapter Two: From the Ashes

It was a dark night in the small city of Las Vegas, Nevada.

Lightening crashed, lighting up the sky, and thunder shook the ground beneath them; rainwater poured down like hail, drenching all those brave enough to venture out of their homes during one of the rare, tyrannical Vegas storms.

In true Vegas fashion, the city was still alive with lights and vibrancies as people poured into the strip clubs, theatres and casinos to place a last bet, view one last show—or just get out of the rain.

Michael wished he was one of them.

Instead he was barely within the city limits, far away enough from the Strip to know it wasn't an option tonight, but too close to drag his eyes away from it.

Rain let out a heavy sigh in front of him, and he turned to look at her.

It was freezing cold, and dressed only in a pair of black pants and a matching tank top, Rain was soaked. Her hand rested casually on the gun within it's grasp, and her expression was bored as she took in the sights below them.

"Been there, done that," she announced. "Let's get going."

Michael let out a snort at the comment—with Rain and J.D's activities as of late, he was surprised they hadn't both tried to single-handedly take on the betting world within their first few days in Vegas.

But Rain was moving again, and so he forced himself to stand and follow, hating the weather as he did so.

From the statistics he'd found in the gift shop tourist novels, Las Vegas only experienced four inches of precipitation a year.

Michael was willing to bet he'd seen at least that, if not more, over the past two days.

He shivered; he was wearing a heavy black coat, gloves, and fuzzy hat, and he was still freezing cold.

Rain, on the other hand, looked completely in her element; cheerful, vivacious, and very much alive.

In a way, it was a relief to see her back to her former persona. It had been over a month since the Hive, but Michael still couldn't completely push that image of Rain out of his head: lost, scared, sickly and weak.

In these four weeks, she had changed, grown stronger than he had ever expected her to.

They all had.

They'd had to.

J.D had become almost reckless in some ways, far more mature and thoughtful than before in others. Him and Rain both had; while they still willingly partook in frivolous activities such as bar-hopping and casino nights when the stress here became too much for them, they had both settled so much in regards to battle. Both of them _listened _to him now; something he'd previously given up on as impossible.

And Alice had stepped into the role of leader once again.

There had been a time, less than a week ago, when he had thought that possibility was even less likely than that of Umbrella surrendering, no questions asked, or Matt's return from the dead; when he'd not only thought, but _known_, that Alice was gone from them.

For awhile after finding Alexei, after escaping from Hades, things had still been okay. Matt's death had changed Alice, there was no arguing that; but while often melancholy and withdrawn, she had always carried that strength, that beautiful shield of armor which comes from knowing the innocence of love; even that already lost. She had still known what she was doing, still watched out for them all; made sure their plans were solid, kept them all safe.

She'd still been _Alice._

And then something in her had snapped. Michael didn't know what it was—none of them did—but one day, Alice had demanded, seemingly out of the blue, a gravestone for Matt.

She'd never given a reason, and none of them had asked. At the time, it had seemed like a good thing—one of the first steps towards acceptance.

So despite the difficulties of arranging a quiet and almost secretive meeting with the professionals hired to do the job, and the unspoken breach in security imprinting Matt's name on a headstone, in Umbrella's headquarters, where anyone could see it, they went ahead with it.

It was chosen. It was paid for, using a combination of their resources and cash on hand. It had arrived, and been placed in the graveyard that very night.

Alice never went to visit.

They all had, one time or another. Rain in particular went there practically every few nights with J.D, who oftentimes only waited outside. Despite having had over six months to get to know Matt, the experiences him, Rain and Alice had shared down in the Hive for the first time had created a bond between them none of the others could hope to surpass.

Even Michael would go once in awhile, and stand there, not knowing what to say; he'd never really gotten to know Matt, had always been shy against the strong, steady force that was Matthew Addison.

Part of him wanted to tell Matt the truth about the situation here; break down and admit that he didn't know what to do. Admit that Alice wasn't safe, wasn't okay like Matt would have hoped she would be; that she spent most nights alone, resurfacing in the morning with red-rimmed eyes and an exhausted, almost beaten look.

Admit that Alice had given up, and they were lost.

But he never did. Something in him couldn't allow that, and so he told Matt lies, told him that things were great and Alice was going to be okay.

Sometimes he wondered if Matt, wherever he was, knew that they were all lies.

Most of the time, he just wondered how the hell he was supposed to fix all this.

Then, as if from Matt himself, he'd found the answer.

He wasn't proud of what he'd done. His plan relied on three things: Alexei's silence, Alice's uncompromised trust, and a complete disregard of his own morals.

But in the end, it was worth it. Because Alice was back, was leading again; there was a light in her eyes that hadn't been there in weeks.

That was all that mattered.

"_Michael_."

Rain's voice cut abruptly into his thoughts, and when he turned to look at her, she was glaring at him.

He offered her a small smile. "Sorry. What was that?"

"I'm bored," she said bluntly, looking tired and irritable. "You want to head in?"

Michael looked at his watch; two hours had passed.

Generally, when they'd started these patrols, venturing out past the Vegas limits every night to search for evidence of Umbrella activity, they'd agreed they would be at least four hour shifts, if not more.

He thought about that, and then he looked at the sky.

While the rain had stopped for the time being, it was heavy and black, looking like it was ready to pour forth again at any given moment.

He nodded, a sudden exhaustion overtaking his body with the motion, and Rain changed her direction slightly, veering off the main roads and entering the residential zones instead.

When they'd agreed on the necessity to patrol, all five of them had figured on more attacks from Hades, if nothing else; they'd thought these patrols would be necessary.

Hades hadn't shown up again, not even once, and while normally Michael would have been worried about what this meant, at the time being he was too tired to care.

They were entering Umbrella tomorrow, beginning a final battle.

Hades could wait.

A baby was crying in the night, and Michael could hear a woman and a man screaming at each other, something about a love affair or betrayal of some sort.

"Home sweet home," Rain muttered ironically, and Michael stole a glance at her.

The brunette looked tired now, frustrated with the useless, slow path these nights were ambling along at—when she'd signed up for patrolling five nights a week, she obviously hadn't anticipated the calm, eventless strolls which had been taking place over the last three weeks.

Her grip on her gun was tight, and Michael mimicked her, flicking the safety off his own as they headed into the slum they called home these days.

Set into what would crudely be called the ghetto area of Las Vegas, Princeton Avenue matched neither it's name nor the idealistic description Michael's out-of-date traveling books had given it.

Their apartment, their so-called _safehouse_, was the epitome of that graceless setting of life.

A two story high building, Vegas Apartments was a nightmare of chipped, peeling pink paint; creaking, dirty floorboards and utterly destroyed windows and doorways. Besides providing shelter for their small group, it also played house for a slew of miscreants, including crack addicts, dealers, pimps and prostitutes, rapists and the odd psychotic serial killer.

In the short time they'd been here, they'd already had to deal with countless break-ins and attempts at assaults, over twenty drug-busts, and one guy with a chainsaw called "Mickey".

All in all, it was not an easy place to live inside.

Nor was it someplace Umbrella would immediately, if at all, think to look for them.

Rain threw open the door, barging inside, and Michael followed, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the hazy, shadowy light the hallways had to offer.

He followed Rain's lead as she stalked through the corridors, ignoring the various catcalls and death threats as she reached the stairs, pounding up them, gun in her hand as if to send out the universal message not to fuck with her.

Michael raised his own gun, trying to convey the same image, and couldn't help but give a small smile at her headstrong attitude.

Despite worrying about her and Alice when they'd first arrived, almost to the point of insisting they have one of the guys escort them everywhere they went, Michael had soon learnt Rain was far more capable of taking care of herself than he probably would have been.

They reached the top of the stairway, and Michael allowed himself to relax slightly.

Beside him, Rain slowed slightly, still tense; part of him wanted to say something that would alleviate her frustration, but another part of him realized it would be useless. He had done this with Rain before, enough times to realize a simple fact: Rain would either stay quiet and explode later, or she would explode now.

Either way, talking would only further piss her off.

"I'm fucking starving," she said.

Her voice was tired rather than angry, and he fought the urge to smile sympathetically, knowing she would find it condescending.

"Who's making dinner tonight?" he asked curiously.

"J.D and Alexei," she answered, and her voice was taut again, expression dark; and looking closely at her, Michael realized it wasn't patrolling she was upset about, but coming home again.

For some reason, Rain and Alexei had gotten close in the past three weeks. To the surprise of no one at all, J.D hated him.

Unfortunately for Rain, it left her in a fairly awkward—and exhausting—position.

In the shadows, a man glared at Rain; Michael shifted his gun onto him, recognizing him instantly as he turned to stare at him instead.

He'd drawn a gun on Rain three days ago, tried to force her into his apartment.

Rain had broken his nose and arm, stolen all the money in his pockets, and walked calmly away.

The hatred in the man's eyes now spoke volumes. So did the fear.

They reached the door without further incident, and Rain stood by patiently— or as patiently as she was capable of, anyway— as Michael stepped up to perform the secret knock they'd all agreed on.

He tapped it three times, knocked slowly five times, turned his palm to hit it again four more times—

And the door was yanked open, revealing J.D, who stood there, face glowering, and barked, "What?"

Michael stared. Dressed in a frilly pink apron, waving a spatula around, face red and twisted into an unmistakable expression of rage, J.D looked slightly maniacal.

"Uh," he said, and couldn't think of anything else to say. Rain laughed, and at the bright sound, uncommon from her these days, Michael couldn't help but grin slightly as well.

"J.D, what the hell are you wearing?"

He looked down at himself, his face reflecting surprise as if he'd forgotten; and then, ripping the apron off angrily, he spat, "Talk to _Alexei_," before storming out of the dingy kitchen.

They continued around the corner to the living room, where the object of J.D's ire was finally revealed in one of the ratty armchairs, a bored expression bordering only slightly on arrogance plastered over his face as he watched television.

"Hey," he said casually, as if the entire scene hadn't just taken place.

Rain looked exasperated. "Alexei, get your ass off the couch and get started. I'm hungry."

Demitrov looked exceptionally wounded, and Michael noticed, not without some amusement, that Rain was the only person he seemed to make even the slightest of effort with.

From the start, he'd seemed to mark Alice as an equal, Michael as slightly less so, and Rain and J.D as somewhat oversized children. Alice and Michael had never particularly needed to tell Demitrov what to do— whenever Alice was around especially, he was always on top form, two steps ahead of them and well aware of it.

His opinion of Rain and J.D, however, had led to a series of screaming fights, a moody J.D, egotistical Demitrov, volatile Rain, and incredibly stressed out Alice.

And then, practically overnight, something had changed. J.D and Demitrov still hated each other, yeah, but now him and Rain were practically attached at the hip. While he still didn't treat her the same way he did Alice— hugely arrogant and yet somehow coolly respectful— she was still one of the only people in the group that he at least attempted to make an effort with.

"I ordered pizza," he said, his expression almost comically shocked, as if the mere suggestion that he would neglect to help J.D in the kitchen had wounded him deeply.

At this, J.D came stomping back into the room. "Are you fucking stupid? We don't have any money to buy pizza with—"

"You, Salinas," Demitrov interjected coolly, "Are poor enough to be living in a slum like this. I, on the other hand, have plenty of money to cover a pizza bill."

"That's not the point!" J.D shouted. "We shouldn't be drawing attention to ourselves—"

"J.D," Rain said, expression exasperated. "It's a pizza deliveryman, not an Umbrella agent. Calm the fuck down."

"If it'll make you feel better, we can kill the deliveryman after we get the pizzas," Demitrov said, a slightly malicious tone to his voice now. "That way you won't have to worry about it so much."

J.D's eyes narrowed. "Yeah. Kill some stupid kid. Although I guess you'd be used to that, working with Umbrella, and all."

Demitrov stiffened, all senses of teasing or amusement going out of his demeanor as he did, and Michael winced. Demitrov wasn't proud of what he'd done at Umbrella— anybody could see that there was obviously something behind that— and J.D had just pushed one of his few buttons.

"Don't bring that up," he said darkly. "You don't even know what the fuck you're talking about, Salinas."

J.D scoffed. "What, except for the fact that you've taken out entire orphanages out in the name of Umbrella? No wonder you're such a great fucking marksman, you've had lots of practice."

"_J.D_," Rain said sharply. "Both of you, stop acting like idiots."

"Stay out of it, Rain," J.D barked at her, just as Alexei said, "I don't need fucking backup, Ocampo."

"Fine," Rain said, looking disgusted. "Do whatever you want, I don't care."

She left, leaving Michael standing, watching J.D and Demitrov's fight escalate to a shouting match. Both men were literally inches apart now, looking ready to tear each other apart if someone didn't intervene. Michael wouldn't have been surprised if the entire neighborhood, let alone the entire safehouse, couldn't hear what was going on.

Not for the first time, he wished Alice was here. J.D and Demitrov listened to her, at least; and if she'd been here in the first place, this entire stupid situation would never have occurred—

_Most likely, anyways_, he corrected himself belatedly. J.D and Demitrov weren't exactly easy to work with at the best of times, but at least it wouldn't have advanced this far.

He was brought out of his nervous reverie when Demitrov punched J.D.

This started a whole new level of fighting, with J.D tackling Demitrov immediately thereafter, sending a counterful of stacked dishes toppling down over them.

Michael sighed, wishing wistfully that he was somewhere else; at home, sitting with his parents and little sister, watching some stupid television program or listening to music. At university, sitting in the library, out with friends, or even in class taking notes.

Instead he was here, in a fleabag apartment, trying— and failing miserably— to exercise some control over the little group in Alice's absence.

He wondered when, how, his life had taken this sudden turn.

Then he threw himself into the fracas.

By the time Rain came out of her room to see what was going on, the fight was pretty much over; Demitrov, coolly calm and collected as always, had stood as soon as Michael had involved himself, looking completely disgusted with J.D.

J.D, on the other hand, was still shouting at Demitrov, fighting to get at him. Michael's first attempts to intervene won him a black eye and impatient curse from J.D, making him wonder why he was even involving himself in this mess.

Then Rain was there, pulling J.D back, shouting, "J.D, calm the fuck down, man—"

Then the door opened, and Alice walked in, gun in her waistband, expression exhausted.

A few steps behind her trailed the pizza boy, carrying three large boxes and looking terrified at the scene in front of him.

_Which_, Michael realized, taking in the scene himself, _he should_.

All four of them were red-faced, panting from the effort the fight had taken; with the exception of Rain, every one of them was bruised and bleeding. Pots and pans had fallen into a cluttered mess around them, the floor was slick with water and soap that had managed to find it's way out of the filled sink, and the television was blaring, lending a slightly detached quality to the entire scene.

Alice scanned the room once.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?"

**xxxxx**

The room went dead silent.

Alice looked around, focusing on each of them in turn. Even soaked to the skin, eyes red from either exhaustion or tears, her bright eyes were liquid steel as they fell on him.

"Alexei," her voice was smooth, and she arched an eyebrow slightly before continuing. "Why don't you explain?"

_Fuck._

Alexei had no idea _how_, exactly, Alice always knew precisely who to blame.

Instead of noting this, he smiled blandly in response. "Salinas lost his temper."

J.D sputtered, and he allowed himself a small smile. Really, J.D made it too easy sometimes.

Alice narrowed her eyes at him briefly before seemingly coming to the conclusion she wasn't likely to get a straight answer out of him anyway. Glancing away, she ordered, "Alexei, pay for the pizza. Both of you, clean up this mess."

"We need to talk about tomorrow, so nobody—" here she glanced at Rain and J.D; the former smiled slightly, the latter continued to glare at Alexei—"Leaves this apartment. Understand?"

They nodded. Alice nodded once, then, looking satisfied, swept out of the room, Michael following.

J.D got down on his hands and knees, beginning to clear the broken glass off the ground. Rain took the pizzas from the kid, who's expression was still mildly terrified, and placed them on the table.

As J.D set to work dumping the glass in the trash bin and Rain began stealing all the assorted pizza pieces, Alexei went to pay the deliveryman, half-listening to their conversation as he did so.

"Wait, you're just leaving?" J.D's voice, teasing but plaintive.

Rain's voice was coolly amused as she responded. "You made the mess, you clean it up."

She left.

Alexei finished paying the deliveryman, adding a big tip—he figured he deserved it—and turned back smile at J.D. "Got it, Salinas?"

J.D glared up at him. "No, I don't 'got it', Demitrov—"

"Good," Alexei said blithely, picking up one of the boxes and continuing into the living room., the echoing sounds of J.D swearing wonderful, comedic music to his tired mind.

That had been ten minutes ago.

Now he sat alone in silence, the cold and greasy pizza box and what was left inside of it on the floor next to him.

The walls here were paper thin, and he could hear Rain and J.D laughing, drowning out the quiet murmurs from Michael and Alice's room.

It made him envious.

When he was with Umbrella, he had never needed—or cared about—personal relationships. Powerful, insanely gorgeous, and already wealthy, he'd climbed the ranks of Umbrella quickly, reaching Archangelo's level in less than a year. Life had been spent in a beautiful, palace-like mansion, cavorting with an array of nameless, faceless women, blithely signing his name on every Umbrella permission document that came his way, and for awhile, he'd known a twisted sort of paradise.

Until one day Alexei had woken up and realized that paradise was slipping.

He hadn't suddenly woken up to realize what he was doing was wrong, much like he imagined Alice Parks had. He'd known what Umbrella was doing was wrong. He just hadn't cared.

He wasn't a fucking _saint_, after all. When life bestowed fortune, Alexei didn't believe in overanalyzing it. What was the point?

What Alexei _was_ was ambitious. Efficient. Even ruthless. A person couldn't get to the top ranks of Umbrella without being ruthless at times.

What he had woken up to realize was that Umbrella was losing. Sometime, between the hushed-up Hive incident and the renegade S.W.A.T. team's return, things had changed and Umbrella had begun to falter.

He'd watched in silence as Umbrella had continued to crumble, hammered away at by this tiny group of renegade Umbrella members. Mutations had escaped, viral information and carefully hidden secrets had somehow become public knowledge, and different members had slowly lost all credibility as Umbrella's top reputation began to crumble.

This had left Alexei with two options, neither of them particularly desirable. Stay with Umbrella to the bitter end—or abandon a life of wealth and prosperity to one of substandard normalcy.

Alexei was used to a life of wealth. Growing up in the household of two full members of what still remained of Russian nobility, he had never known anything less.

Living in this hellhole was fucking torture.

Eventually, he'd thought of a way out.

He'd been on that last pathetic attempt of a clean up mission in the Hive, his first active duty, when it had occurred to him on a spur-of-the-moment thought: _the anti-virus_.

That one, stupid little case they were carrying was worth over five hundred _billion_ dollars. On the black market, it's price would be doubled.

With that money, he could begin a new life—sail away to Tahiti, buy himself an island, do whatever the fuck he wanted, really.

He could start over.

It was amazingly simple, really. He was surprised nobody else had thought of it first.

From then on it had been a matter of simple deviation: lying about the codes, trapping his group, and arranging for his own transportation.

Oddly enough, that had been the hardest part. Alexei had been pleasantly surprised at the loyalty of some of Umbrella's lower members.

It was amazing, however, what one million dollars could buy a person.

Alexei had walked out of the incident whole, healthy, and soon to be very, very rich.

Unfortunately, Umbrella had chosen to detonate his house, rather than deal with the entirely messy process of killing him by stealth. Alexei had barely escaped with his life, had been halfway across the country holed up in an anonymous hotel room when he'd realized one simple fact: he'd left the anti-virus behind.

It had been detonated along with the rest of the house.

This, unfortunately, left Alexei completely fucked.

Before he could chose another plan of action, he'd ended up in Alice Park's hotel room, fighting off Hades with the rest of them like a good little hero should.

And now he was here. Which, in retrospect, wasn't all bad. The million dollars he'd spent had guaranteed him a contact for life, meaning he was well-informed at all times of Umbrella's activities and status—more so, actually, than he had ever been working there.

The people here weren't bad either.

Alice Parks was beautiful, classy and intelligent; Michael Cahill was quiet and boring, but doubtlessly intelligent as well.

Neither of them interfered in his activities, and he appreciated that.

J.D Salinas was an idiot, but decent on the field. And Rain Ocampo… Rain was something else entirely. While her demanding, volatile attitude had pissed him off at first, just as he supposed his cool, slightly arrogant tone had pissed her off, she'd quickly grown on him. She was sufficiently intelligent and she could match him on the field as well, something else he appreciated. While he could lift a hell of a lot more weight than she could, she could kick his ass in a race, and they both knew that.

She was also witty, and there was something almost endearingly charming about her completely tyrannical personality.

He had never cared about personal relationships.

Sometimes, when he was here, he worried he was starting to.

He glanced edgily at the clock on the VCR.

11:17 pm.

_Fuck this._

He stood abruptly, walking through what he called "the crawl space" and the rest of the group referred to as a hallway and stopped in front of one of the doors, knocking politely.

Rain answered instantly, sounding irritated. "What?"

"May I come in?" he asked, his voice full of exaggerated politeness. "If it's all right with Salinas, of course."

"No," J.D muttered sullenly inside. Alexei heard a sharp smack, followed by an irritated. "Ow. What the fuck, Rain—"

"Yeah," Rain replied finally, cutting J.D off.

_Smart girl._

Alexei opened the door and walked in, taking in the scene quickly; both were sitting on the lumpy bed they shared, looking bored and relaxed. "Ocampo," he drawled slowly, leaning against the doorway. "Want to come on a cleanup mission with me?"

"Cleanup mission?" she asked skeptically. "Or a waste of time patrol?"

He shrugged elegantly, grinned slightly. "A little of both?"

She grinned in return. "Hell yes."

She bounced off the bed, gave J.D an affectionate clap on the shoulder. "See you, J.D."

"Yeah," he muttered. "Bye."

Alexei slung an arm around her shoulder as she passed by him. "Bye J.D."

J.D didn't even grace that with a comment; he just sat there, watching them go, looking pissed.

Alexei smiled.

**xxxxx**

They were twenty minutes into their walk when Alexei broke the echoing silence.

"Let's _talk_, Rain," he said brightly.

She stared at him. He stared back. Finally, she broke.

"Why?" she asked plaintively. "I like the silence."

And she did. She wasn't exactly what someone would call quiet—J.D made a point of reminding her of that often—but for some reason, being around Alexei was calming.

He smiled charmingly. "I want to get to know you better."

"Something might here us," she pointed out languidly. "One of Umbrella's monsters, or something."

He snickered at that, and she grinned slightly, unable to help it.

With the storm having blown through and out in a matter of hours, the only sounds in the quiet Vegas night were the splashes of their footsteps against the wet concrete. Their quiet voices were held in the still sky, carried away through the air, and were it any actual mission, there would have been a legitimate point to her comments.

But on these missions, nothing happened. Ever. Rain, unfortunately, knew this better than anyone, having signed up for the missions in a desperate bid for action only to realize they were fucking pointless.

She fought off more problems walking through their goddamn 'safe house' than she ever did out here.

"Tell me about Salinas," Alexei suggested. "He interests me."

Rain rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, right."

"No, seriously," he continued, unperturbed. "I've never met anyone that stupid before. He's fascinating."

Rain smirked slightly before loyalty prevailed and she added, "Hey, watch who you're calling stupid. He's my best friend."

Alexei glanced at her, and she sighed. "He's reckless, okay? Doesn't mean he's stupid."

And somewhere along the way her tone had changed to one of defensiveness, and she wanted to cringe, hearing it in the air, shattering the still calm of the night.

J.D had been right—she really wasn't capable of a calm silence.

She waited, tense; they were walking in tandem, their footsteps echoing loudly in the night, and Alexei looked thoughtful.

"Why?" he asked finally.

"How the fuck should I know?" she bit off, annoyed despite herself.

Alexei didn't call her on it; he only raised an eyebrow, as if she _hadn't_ just snapped at him, and waited for her to continue.

"He thinks we don't trust him," she admitted bluntly, and the previously unspoken confession lingered in between them.

Part of her wished she could take the words back. It wasn't a secret, and it wasn't something J.D himself had told her, but all the same… it wasn't any of his business. She shouldn't have told him.

She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he cut her off deliberately. "Why wouldn't you?"

Had it been anyone else, Rain would have told them to fuck off. Reminded them, harshly, that what went on between her and J.D was nobody else's goddamn business.

But Alexei had a way of making her reveal information she hadn't even been able to admit to herself. With a series of well-placed questions and looks, he'd somehow mastered a technique nobody before J.D had managed to fully grasp.

Part of her hated it. The whole reason Rain didn't tell people stuff was because it made her vulnerable, and with every bit of information she let slip to Alexei, she gave him a stronger weapon to use against her.

Yet another part of her trusted him enough to enjoy those little looks and comments; the way she could open up to him without even stopping to think about it.

She didn't want to think about it.

"Back down in the Hive," she began, and she didn't need to fill him in on the rest—Alice had already told him everything worth knowing about their last trip down there. "J.D and Olivia ended up in a—"

She halted there, not knowing what description to use; the term relationship somehow gave it a much fuller meaning than she wanted to apply to the weeklong train crash that had ultimately led to their downfall.

"Fling," she said finally, hating the word but unsure of what else to say. "J.D started to trust her—he followed her, blindly, and eventually Olivia betrayed us. We never could trust her, and then… we couldn't trust him either, not anymore."

A brief flash of resentment coursed through her, directing her next words. "Now he's… I don't know, trying to make up for it or something."

"Or regain your trust," Alexei suggested offhandly.

Rain shrugged. "He's going to get himself killed," she said flatly.

Alexei shrugged as well. "Maybe."

Their was another brief silence, one which Rain broke instead. "Why do you care?" she asked sharply. "You ask all these fucking questions and—"

"Do you trust him now?" Alexei asked simply, cutting her off completely, and she blew out an explosive breath before answering:

"I don't know."

The words were tiny, laced with a sort of sorrow and fear she didn't even want to try and analyze; and too late, she wished she'd just said something fake, had lied, had managed to avoid this conversation entirely.

He was standing too close to her, his eyes searching and thoughtful; she felt entirely too open to him.

"Look," she began harshly. "I don't—"

And then his mouth was on hers, cutting her off a second and final time; she gave in without even thinking about it, yielding under the soft pressure of his mouth, somehow registering how close she was to him, pressed up against him, his arms pulling her in impossibly close—

Then he pulled away, leaving her feeling lost, confused, and inexplicably angry.

"What—" she started, but he cut her off _again_ and she realized suddenly that they were no longer alone.

There was something across the street.

In the dark night, Rain couldn't make out distinctive features—from her viewpoint it looked like a harmless dog, albeit a large one.

Then it moved, a fluid, graceful movement as it started towards them, and she felt a shudder pass involuntarily through her as it did.

Whatever it looked like, there was nothing harmless about it.

She still had her handgun in her grasp; she'd never put it away, and she unlocked the safety now, holding it ready in front of her.

She realized suddenly that it was their only weapon—Alexei hadn't bothered to bring one.

He was behind her only slightly, and whispered, "Ocampo, don't let it see you—"

Completely fucking useless advice, and yet, faced with the prospect of the thing in front of them, she absorbed the order as if it made sense, not bothering, for once in her life, to argue.

It looked right at them.

And then it turned and loped away.

Rain allowed her grip on the trigger to falter only slightly before asking bluntly, "What the fuck just happened?"

She spun around to look at him, and jumped despite herself at his appearance; gone was the charming, deceivingly cheerful persona Alexei constantly played at.

Instead, his features were hard; his blue eyes dark and steely as he said shortly, "Crawford is in town."

Rain blinked. Then: _"What?"_

Alexei didn't even bother answering. He just turned and hurried away, obviously expecting him to follow.

Rain just stood there and stared at his retreating back, feeling distinctly confused and even more irritable as she demanded:

"Who the _hell_ is Crawford?"

**xxxxx**

Two full hours had passed, two hours which he had spent scowling at the wall and wondering what Rain and Demitrov could possibly be doing, before Alice finally knocked on the door.

"Yeah?" J.D asked simply, glancing at it as it opened swiftly.

Alice stood there, holding one of the files in her hand. "Where are Alexei and Rain?" she asked pointedly.

J.D shrugged, staring at the floor, knowing he was acting like a petulant child and not caring.

After all that had happened with Olivia, he couldn't believe Rain was off alone, in the middle of the night, screwing around with Demitrov.

Not literally, obviously. Unless—

That brought up all sorts of horrifying images, and J.D pushed them aside, trying to focus on the matter at hand.

Alice was staring at him, looking equal parts concerned and wary, and while normally he would have at least tried to make the extra effort to be a good little boy, tonight he was too tired to care. "What?"

She raised one slender eyebrow at him, her expression too knowing for comfort, and he flushed slightly.

It didn't help that the entire group seemed to assume his concern over the situation was nothing more than jealousy and a mistaken sense of over-protectiveness.

Michael appeared in the doorway. "I didn't see them anywhere outside," he said, answering Alice's questioning look as he slid into the room, sitting down on one of the desk chairs next to the bed.

Alice sighed, and J.D looked closely at her as she did so. He wasn't good at deciphering people—fucking hopeless, actually.

But even he could see how tired she seemed lately.

"We'll start without them," she said simply, although her voice was full of irritation.

J.D nodded, somewhat savagely. "Good."

She glanced at him, and then at Michael, beginning without any preamble. "Everyone here knows what's happening tomorrow already. I just wanted to make sure everyone was okay with it."

Even tired, her blue eyes were bright and somehow warm as she looked over J.D and Michael; and J.D realized, suddenly, that she was just as glad about tomorrow as she was terrified.

Alice had been drifting for weeks—they all had. Sliding down the messy path to salvation, fading away into nothingness—and now, finally, they were fumbling their way to a concrete ending.

In a way, it was almost inspiring.

"I don't like how much of our plan relies on Demitrov," J.D voiced instantly, and wanted to cringe at how whiny the words sounded, clearing his throat and adding instead, "He works with Umbrella, and that gives him an edge. But if he messes something up, we're all fucked."

Both Alice and Michael looked exasperated, but not entirely surprised, and he realized they'd both been expecting this.

He wondered if Demitrov got the same reactions from the group when he mentioned J.D.

_Probably not._

Demitrov would _never_ allow himself to look that childish.

"J.D," Alice began, and just looking at her, J.D could see how hard she was trying to keep it together. He felt a momentary flash of guilt that came out of nowhere and threatened to overwhelm him—first Olivia, and now this.

No matter what happened, somehow, J.D Salinas always seemed to be at the root of it.

"This is what the plan is," Alice spoke calmly, rationally, but J.D could see that part of her was hoping he would just shut up and let things be, make it easier on all of them.

But he couldn't, and it wasn't just because of his dislike for Demitrov, or his annoyance at the relationship building between the ex-Umbrella figurehead and his best friend.

J.D had always had some degree of intuition. Usually, he went against it completely anyways, doing the stupid thing to get fast results.

But his intuition was always right, and tomorrow…

He had a bad feeling about tomorrow.

"Demitrov is a loose end," he said flatly, not knowing what else to say. "I don't trust him."

Alice looked like she was debating whether to beat him with something or take the easy path of suicide, her sharp blue eyes a contrast to her exhausted expression.

Michael was staring at the doorway, and too late, J.D became aware of the figures standing in front of it.

True to form, Demitrov ignored him completely; leaning casually against the wall and watching Alice carefully.

Rain's posture, however, spoke volumes. Even though she too focused her attention on Alice, J.D could practically see the barely restrained irritation in her stance—

And when she turned, finally, to glance at him, the accusation and somehow misplaced worry in her eyes forced his own gaze back to the floor.

Alice broke the sudden silence. "Nice of you two to show up," she clipped plainly, staring at both Demitrov and Rain.

Neither of them looked fazed; Demitrov only said simply, "Crawford is here."

Both Michael and Alice tensed; Alice narrowed her eyes slightly at him. "How do you know?"

"Saw one of his attack dogs," Demitrov said simply, his posture unchanging, but his blue eyes stormy.

"Who's Crawford?" J.D finally interceded bluntly, feeling like an idiot for asking but even stupider listening to something completely impossible for him to understand.

To his surprise, Rain gestured at him and said, "Dude, exactly. That's what I told Alexei."

Demitrov looked irritated, glancing at both of them and saying, "Look, if Umbrella has a boss, Crawford would be it. His being here, at this time, is too much of a coincidence to continue."

He looked back at Alice. "Alice, I would highly suggest we move the mission to a later date, or at least scout out the area before carrying out tomorrow's plan."

J.D was surprised, despite himself, at the unwavering respect in Demitrov's voice—he had never, ever spoken to Michael or even Rain that way before, and it was almost disconcerting to hear such a subjective tone in his regularly arrogant voice.

But Alice was already shaking her head. "No. This changes nothing."

"Alice, this changes _everything_," Demitrov argued, his tone of respect melding into one of almost hostile desperation. "Our plan depended on Umbrella's lack of security. If Crawford is there—"

"_No_."

Alice spoke harshly, and Demitrov fell silent. "I don't care what happened. This is our plan, and we're sticking to it. If anyone has a problem, they should say something now."

She glanced around the room, at everyone inside it. Nobody looked particularly arguementive; Rain and Michael were both silent, staring at respective points on the wall and ceiling, and Demitrov kept his mouth shut, looking mutinous.

And J.D? J.D didn't care.

He just wanted this all to be over so he could get back to something approaching a normal life. Fighting was one thing—but this mindless, political idiocy he could do without.

"Good," Alice said finally, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the room, and though her expression was strong, confident, the face a leader _should _have, her voice was almost exhausted as she added, "Whether we win or lose…"

"This ends tomorrow."


	3. Chapter Three: Into the Darkness

Title: Final Illuminations

Author: Malenkaya

Rating: R for violence and swearing

Summary: RE movie fanfiction. In this sequel to "Fading Away" and "Into the Light", Alice, Michael, Rain and J.D continue in their efforts to defeat Umbrella, finding along the way new allies, new enemies—and new hope for Matthew Addison.

Disclaimer: I'm feeling daring, so I'm not going to post one. So ha ha. If, strangely and ironically, I disappear from fanfiction (dot) net due to this heinous offence, I will be found under "TMonkey".

Feedback: Please! I live and breathe reviews! Flames, as long as they're explanatory, are fine.

Author's Notes:

Firstly, I'd like to thank the following for their wonderful reviews: DarkPrincessPyro99, XMaster, rain1657, sarahvspsycheotic, masked-in-your-shadows, Violet Eternity, Faded Writer, Kim Hughes and LiRa; I really appreciate it. Please keep reviewing:)

Chapter four—with (**SPOILER**) the addition of Matthew Addison (**SPOILER**)—will be updated on October 28th.

Chapter Three: Into the Darkness

It was four o'clock am.

The sky outside the window was pitch black; snow or not, it was early November already, and the days got darker every day.

It was fitting, in their situation.

It had been only slightly over a year ago now that they were down in the Hive, fighting an almost impossible battle against Umbrella and it's mutations.

That war would end today. That, too, was fitting.

Alice threw up again.

When she'd finally finished, she drew back shakily, drawing up against the cold porcelain of the dingy bathtub, pulling her knees to her chest.

She had been throwing up all morning. Everyone had been up at two, on her command, and now they were by the door, waiting for her—and she couldn't stop throwing up.

Something was wrong.

For weeks she'd been denying it, allotting her constant nausea to exhaustion, stress and worry—worry over Matt, the anti-virus, the success of this mission—everything.

Then she had realized it had all begun only after she'd left the Hive.

Something had happened to her down there, and she had no idea where to go, how to stop it—who to talk to.

For the first time since Matt had gone, Alice felt completely alone.

With shaking hands, she pushed her tangled hair back carefully, raising her chin just slightly to look in the mirror.

Bloodshot blue eyes stared back at her, framed by a ghostly white face and exhausted expression. Alice could already see where the stress of this war, of losing Matt, was taking effect—the tiny lines forming around her eyes and mouth, the emptiness in her eyes.

Everything depended on this mission—her survival depended on finding that anti-virus.

And she couldn't even stand.

She jumped when the knock resounded through the room, glancing towards the door as if whoever stood behind it could see her. "What?" she called, her voice strained, hoping it was J.D or Rain—anyone besides Alexei.

Demitrov was particularly observant, and already had learnt far more about her team than she was comfortable sharing with him.

To a certain degree, she trusted him. He hadn't given her any reasons to do so—on the contrary, he acted as suspicious as she assumed was humanly possible, keeping every single secret he could, lying to the group whenever he saw fit to do so, and isolating himself in a circle of conceit and superiority.

Despite that, Alice had always been a good judge of character—and while his arrogance might have been real, his actions showed he wanted Umbrella to fall just as much as they all did.

Either way, she didn't want Alexei finding out about her own issues—finding out anything that could destroy her credibility to lead.

"It's Rain." Alice could almost see the hesitant look on the brunette's face as she added, "Are you okay?"

Alice looked at her reflection again. Dull eyes. Tangled blond curls. White face.

She felt like she was going crazy.

"Yeah, Rain," she said finally, her voice tired but self-assured. "Yeah, I'm fine."

The assurance was echoed in her eyes, in her expression—she looked confident, and for a moment, she almost believed the lie.

Almost.

"Everyone's waiting," Rain continued outside the door.

Alice nodded. "Good," she said. "Tell them to be ready."

She heard only silence for a moment as Rain seemed to pause, hesitating; and then the thump of her footsteps, hard against the thin wood flooring as she walked back down the hallway.

She waited until it was silent, until she was sure she was alone again, before whispering, "This ends today."

And this time she believed it.

They had come a long way to get to this point, and ready or not—it was time.

xxxxx

James Anderson had never been a hero.

Sure, there'd been that one time three months ago, when something in him had finally snapped and he'd turned his back on Archangelo and—or so he'd thought, at the time—Umbrella.

And while the next two months had passed by in a whirlwind, as he'd disappeared from a previous lifetime and absorbed himself in another, he'd always been aware of the comfortable fact that for once in his life he was free—no longer immersed in the corruption Umbrella brought with it.

It didn't take long for all that to change.

Once they'd finally gotten in the car, that fateful day three months ago, Eliza Williamson had driven first to Washington, and then to sunny California, and during that entire timespan, she'd been utterly silent.

Lea had been silent as well, her small face speaking of grief far too adult for her to bear; but James had expected a series of questions from Eliza, none of which he'd be able to answer.

The next day she'd disappeared entirely—unable to deal with the situation, scared of Umbrella's retribution, or simply not caring about her niece's fate—and the girl's safety had been left up to him.

Him. James Anderson.

At first he'd been terrified to the point where he actually considered leaving Lea at some adoption agency or something.

But then he remember Rain Ocampo's expression, half threat and half plea, when she'd told him to keep Lea safe—and while some part of him had been afraid of her finding out, some other part of him had reached an epiphany.

He could handle this.

And so they'd moved all over the country, trying to evade Umbrella. With a trust fund James had never revealed to the corporation, him and Lea were living well, if not haphazardly, and after a month, Lea had finally opened up to the point where she could smile, and laugh again.

That was when Umbrella had finally tracked him down.

Thinking back on it now, James probably would have simply let them kill him if he'd been on his own. He still felt guilt for Matthew Addison's demise; for all the things Umbrella had done that he had ignorantly allowed.

But now he had Lea, and so he'd lied, blamed the entire mess on Archangelo.

Fortunately, they'd believed him.

Unfortunately, he was playing secretary again.

This time to Vincent Crawford.

Archangelo had scared him, but Crawford—Crawford terrified him. Where Archangelo had been conceited, smug, and stupid in that conceit, Crawford was cold and impenetrable. Where Archangelo had always had an arrogant, vaguely threatening smile, Crawford's expressions were empty, and his eyes were ice.

With barely exerting himself at all, Crawford saw _everything._

Sometimes, James wondered if he was any safer here than he'd been before. When Demitrov had bought him for an escape route, James had thought it was a good idea; a little spare cash, and, even knowing nothing about the anti-virus, it would hurt Umbrella, hurt _Archangelo_, which James, even then, had never seen as a bad thing.

But Demitrov had bought him for life, and even now, James kept him informed.

Some days it was almost thrilling, betraying Crawford right in front of him and knowing the seemingly omnipotent man knew nothing about it.

Most days, he was just scared. Because someday, Crawford was going to find out, and Lea wasn't going to be safe anymore.

He just hoped Demitrov and the rest of them, Alice and everyone else that had been inside the Hive, knew what they were doing. That everything would work out, and this would all end today.

The phone rang, and he snapped to attention, reaching for it—

Only to be intercepted by Crawford, who had stepped into the front office momentarily. The Umbrella dictator's office was adjoined to his by heavy wooden doors, and normally, he stayed inside there, preferring to let James handle the more menial matters for Umbrella.

James smiled nervously. "Sorry, sir," he said instantly, returning to the paperwork on his desk, making a concentrated effort not to appear to be listening in.

Crawford ignored him completely, apparently completely absorbed in whatever the caller was telling him.

A couple of minutes passed, and when Crawford still didn't speak, aside from short comments of agreement and dissent, James began to relax, if only slightly, thinking about Lea's birthday party coming up next week as he continued.

If there was one thing good about his return to Umbrella, it was the stability it brought Lea. She'd entered kindergarten two weeks ago, and already had a collection of friends clamoring to attend her birthday party.

"Really? How interesting."

Crawford's comments—more than he'd said before, and in a cold, dark tone that chilled James—cut through his thoughts.

He placed his pen carefully onto his paper, peering up slightly, trying not to make it obvious.

He shouldn't have bothered.

Crawford was staring directly at him, the icy blue of his eyes cutting through him like glass.

"Thank you for informing me," he said, and hung up the phone.

Then he smiled at James, that cold, aphotic smile, and James understood that, somehow, things had just gone very, very wrong.

xxxxx

The forest they were in was beautiful.

Tall trees blocked out the sun only slightly, still allowing bright sunlight to shine through.

In mid-October, the leaves were breathtaking shades of orange-reds and brilliant golds, some scattered on the ground, others barely clinging to the branches they still hung from.

It was silent, peacefully so—

And yet, walking through here, Michael couldn't stop thinking about the Raccoon Forest incident.

Alice was leading them all, her golden hair striking with the sun shining down upon it; her stride was fast and confident, her posture prepared and assured, and Michael still worried about her.

Rain had refused to say anything after returning, but she hadn't had to. The worry she had always thought she was so efficient at hiding was clear on her face.

And Alice had appeared moments later, looking radiant with confidence—but she had never been good at hiding her emotion, and her blue eyes, while calm, were abysmally sad.

When Alice had left to visit Matt's grave the night before, Michael had been relieved—it had only seemed like a good sign.

Now he wasn't so sure. Part of him believed the only reason she was still doing this, was still even trying anymore, was because of what he'd told her only days ago.

And that had been a complete and utter lie.

Rain walked slightly behind her, J.D on one side, Demitrov on the other, none of them speaking.

There was something going on with Rain and Demitrov—what exactly, Michael couldn't say.

And while Matt and Alice had seemed perfection embodied together, both melding into each other in this bizarrely unique way, the air between Rain and Demitrov was charged and electric, almost a spark rather than the connection Matt and Alice had shared.

Nor was it as frivolous as the sweet, but ultimately useless attraction J.D and Olivia had shared down inside the Hive.

Michael wasn't sure what he thought of Alexei Demitrov. On a personal level… the man was impossible to read, and thus impossible to trust.

And yet, Alice appeared to trust him, even seemed to like him at times; and he trusted Alice.

Michael kicked at the leaves slightly as he walked, tightening his grip on the M-16 in his arms, tense despite the calm environment.

He only realized Rain had dropped back to walk next to him when the brunette voiced, her tone forcibly casual, "Reminds you of Raccoon, doesn't it?"

He couldn't help but smile slightly, nodding in response. "Yeah."

That led to thoughts of the town now—what it looked like, decimated and blown away.

The virus had been contained—too late to help his sister or mother.

"At least there aren't any fucking bears this time," Rain commented, almost optimistically, and they exchanged conspirational grins.

J.D had dropped back too, and added, "Or freezing rivers to wade through."

Rain nodded promptly. "That, too."

Michael grinned again—the memories weren't exactly happy ones, but memories all the same, and reliving them amongst themselves was somehow comforting.

He looked up ahead, half-expecting Alice to join in; but the blond was still ahead of them, distant and far away.

Demitrov, however, had looked back, his gaze slightly perturbed. "Bears?"

Rain grinned. "Alexei is afraid of bears," she informed them both. "It's a phobia."

Michael snickered, but J.D looked stuck between either triumph or annoyance, finally ending with a "Huh."

Demitrov glared at Rain, who stared back, coolly amused. "Funny, Ocampo. But no. What did the bear look like?"

"Well," Rain said, with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Like a bear, _Demitrov._"

Demitrov sent her a look of pure exasperation, and, with a slight grin, Michael realized exactly how many times Rain had probably had that look directed at her before.

"Red eyes," J.D cut in, surprisingly. "Like one of the zombie Dobermans, almost, only… not."

"Eloquent," Rain said, grinning at him; but to everyone's surprise, Demitrov shook his head.

"Umbrella," he said shortly. "It was infected."

Even Rain was silent now, all three of them staring at him in mute surprise.

"I would assume you realized it wouldn't go into the river?" Demitrov continued, his eyes narrowed.

Michael nodded. "That's how we escaped," he clarified unnecessarily, waiting for him to finish.

"Umbrella's helicopters used to land there," Demitrov explained, and Michael's memory flashed back to a wide and open field, it's grass pushed back and flat. "After a few dozen employees got attacked, they realized the infection had spread throughout the forest's wildlife. So they added chemicals into the water to make it safe for them to travel through. A safe route, to some degree."

Michael furrowed his brow. "Why would Umbrella want to go through the forest?"

"It was the fastest way to the Spencer mansion, and they'd been tracking all of you—they let Hades loose to attack you while you were inside."

Demitrov's tone was bland, as if he'd been discussing the weather or something similarly banal, and J.D gaped at him. "How, exactly, would you know this?"

Demitrov shrugged, almost airily answering, "I was the one who signed the permission forms for the attack."

Michael suspected J.D, had he not been so completely shocked, would have attacked Demitrov at that point.

As it was, he just looked angry. Rain looked angry as well, but also confused, and almost—scared.

"Wait a minute—" Michael started.

But Demitrov had already pulled away, commenting, "Would you look at that, we're nearly there already."

They had reached the edge of the forest, and Alice was standing there, looking back at them, her expression equal parts annoyance, boredom, and complete detachment.

"Are you four done?" she asked coolly.

They all nodded, Rain dragging her eyes away from Demitrov to do so as well, and Michael shook what Demitrov had said out of his mind, forcing himself to focus on the present situation.

Their lives depended on it.

"Good," Alice said simply, and there was both concern and a sort of pride in her eyes as she looked them all over. "Everyone ready?"

More nods, all around—thankfully, J.D had no more comments about having to work with Demitrov.

"Good," Alice repeated, her voice still proud but crisp this time. "Let's go."

They split up, as their plan had dictated, Rain, J.D, and Demitrov sinking into the black shadows the early morning sun cast over the building as Alice and Michael hurried through the perimeter of the forest, making their way around to the front of the tall building.

It was huge, massive, sparkling white with plaster, marble and glass in the early sunrise; but like all buildings, it had a parking lot, and Michael and Alice slid in with no trouble, heading straight for the reconnaissance van in the back corner of the lot.

Made to look dull and dingy, the grey van housed Umbrella's outer security system, used in the event inner security failed; it was here, more so than ever, that they depended upon Demitrov's knowledge of Umbrella's security systems to get them through this.

On a regular basis, there would be no working security inside the van; it was a waste of money when there were so many other Umbrella bases outside the main corporation that could monitor the systems just as efficiently given the alert to do so.

However, setting up those outer systems took over an hour to do, and with Crawford here, and the whole corporation on high alert, Michael figured Umbrella wasn't going to be taking chances.

They both went around to either side of the back doors, Alice covering the left, Michael, the right.

She looked at him, raised her eyebrow questioningly—was he ready?

He didn't even think before he nodded.

She smiled, giving a short, sharp nod in return—

And then both yanked their doors open, pulling back for cover, waiting for the imminent gunfire—

But nothing happened.

On Alice's signal, they both crept into the open space, weapons at the ready, examining the van carefully—

And Michael breathed a sigh of relief.

It was empty.

They both clambered in, Alice slamming and locking the doors behind them while Michael dropped down in front of the computers, getting started.

There were countless wires here, tangled and messy, and Michael was glad he knew exactly what he was looking for; that Demitrov, somehow, had managed to come up with all the information.

Behind him, Alice slid the curtains covering the windows closed; by the time she came to stand behind him, he was plugging in the last few wires, the screens in front and around him filling with colored static.

"Can you get online?" Alice asked, her voice strained.

He nodded. "Should be able to," he said, confidently, and pushed in the last wire.

The screens flickered to life.

xxxxx

They were inside the building.

Crawford watched, still wearing his well-used expression of no expression at all, as he wiped his bloody hand on the silky cloth in his left hand.

He could hear the ragged breathing of James Anderson behind him, and had to smile in the slightest of sympathies.

Extracting the information from him had been harder than Crawford had thought it would be—he'd been impressed.

But sooner or later, the man had to break. Every man broke eventually, and for Anderson, it had been the mention of his daughter that acted as the closing argument.

Crawford recognized Alexei Demitrov in the trio, and was surprised despite himself; he'd received information the man had been disposed of already.

He frowned, lifting the bloodied knife from his desk and wiping that off too as he stared at the screen pensively.

These days, he couldn't trust anything his employees told him.

A slight bell alerted him to the outside, last-resort security system jacking into the mainframe, and he turned to smile at Anderson. "Right on time."

"Just like you said it'd be."

James Anderson looked like he wanted to spit at him, and Crawford was pleased at the man's resilience.

Sometimes, it was encouraging to know not everyone who worked for him was a complete weakling.

Even if they ended up working against him in the end.

"You said I could go," Anderson cut in, desperation leaking into the defiant tone. "If I told you. I told you."

Crawford shrugged. "Until I verify your information, you're not going anywhere," he said coldly.

Anderson looked like he was going to cry—probably thinking of his daughter—and Crawford smiled banally at him. "I keep my word, James. If your information works out, you're free to go."

Anderson didn't look relieved. If anything, he looked more terrified.

xxxxx

They had been walking through the corridors of Umbrella's massive capital for over fifteen minutes, wandering aimlessly through cold corridors studded with glass and marble he remembered all too well, before Alexei was forced to face the facts.

He wasn't here.

He had said he'd be here, and James Anderson wasn't fucking _here._

"What's going on?"

Salinas, sounding both irritated and suspicious.

Alexei ignored him, turning around abruptly, and scanning down the remainder of the long, marble hallway for another option.

The door to the room they'd agreed to meet inside was locked, so that was already out of the question; and going back wasn't an option.

Cynically, he wanted to believe Anderson had just chickened out, had taken the kid Archangelo had stuck him with and left town.

But another side of him—the same one that realized when someone was lying to him, had betrayed him or was ready to, that same part that had kept him alive for so long—knew otherwise.

Somehow, something had gone wrong.

"Alexei?" Rain this time, her voice unsuspicious but edgy, and he turned on her.  
"_What_?" he barked, anger and fear overtaking rationality. "Would you just back the fuck off, Ocampo?"

He immediately regretted the words at the look on Rain's face; she blanched, looking both angry and scared.

And while normally he wouldn't have given a fucking shit—not in this situation, where she should have known better than to press him—that look triggered something inside him, the slight vulnerability so uncommon in her expression.

Before he could bother trying to make it up somehow, J.D snapped. "Don't fucking talk to her that way, Demitrov."

Alexei rounded on him, apologies forgotten as he snarled, "Stay the fuck out of it, Salinas."

He was losing the slight grip he still had on his composure, and he struggled to regain it—

And then the alarms went off.

J.D's response cut out abruptly as red lights flashed on, illuminating their corridor; somewhere nearby, they could hear doors slamming, heaving footsteps and backed up instinctively, all three lifting their weapons readily.

He could feel Rain's and J.D's eyes on him, Rain's look one of wariness, Salinas one of open suspicion, and shook his head sharply.

"Abort the mission," he said shortly.

Failure wasn't in his vocabulary.

But whatever had been released into the corridors, there was no way three people with a few automatics was going to be able to take them out.

With Anderson's disappearance, they'd been fucked from the very beginning of this ill-begotten mission, and they were still fucked. The only option left was whether they lived or not, which, if they stayed here any longer, would be gone as well.

Failure had never been a choice, but inevitable.

_And what the fucking hell had happened to Anderson?_

"We should stay," J.D said suddenly, and they both turned to stare at him in mute condemnation.

He raised his hands defensively. "What? We've already come this far—"

"We might as well die?" Rain cut in sharply, glaring at him. "We're dealing with Umbrella, J.D, not just some stupid cops."

"I know that, _Rain_," he spat at her, and she looked taken aback. "I'm not the one who—"

"We don't have fucking time for this," Alexei snarled, raising his voice to be heard above the chaotic noise of the alarms. "We're leaving. That's not an option."

They both stared at him, looking weary and angry; and finally J.D nodded, and shoved his weapon back into it's holster—

And the guards, whose approach had been silenced under the chaos, stepped into the corridor.

xxxxx

They ran, racing through a minefield of gunfire coming from what felt like a squadron of at least ten Umbrella agents.

In all the time J.D had been fighting against Umbrella, he'd always figured men with guns were less scary compared to some of the mutations Umbrella had thrown at them over the last year.

But bullets could still kill, and he found himself running faster than he'd thought possible, hurtling down the hall like a linebacker.

Within a minute he became separated from Rain and Alexei; he kept running, unwilling to take the time to worry about it.

Instead, he focused his worry on finding an exit.

Something had gone way out of control in there. For the first time since he'd known the ex-Umbrella agent, Demitrov had seemed unprepared and unsure; lost, shouting at Rain, taking way too long to make the decision to abort the mission even after he'd figured out they were already screwed.

J.D had no clear idea of what had happened, but his bet was Demitrov had tried to make a deal with Umbrella and Umbrella had turned around and fucked him over.

And Rain was still with him.

Most of the guards had followed them, the few behind J.D already dropping back to reload, and he hoped, for Rain's sake, that Alexei knew where he was going.

J.D skipped past a staircase—if there was one thing he'd learnt working with Umbrella, it was that staircases generally just led to getting trapped further—and dodged past an overwhelming display of medals and plaques, his breath coming in quick, short gasps as he plowed through the first emergency door he saw.

Alarms went off as he stumbled out into the fresh air of the beautiful outdoors, continuing to run and slowing only when he'd reached the perimeter of the forest. Fighting to catch his breath, he jogged quickly through the trees, heading for the parking lot.

Every sound, every footfall, every gasping breath seemed to echo in the cool silence—he didn't think he'd been followed, but every sound magnified itself to the point where it sounded like an army was following him.

He slowed to a stop when he finally reached the parking lot, scanning it quickly. It was empty, and he began to slide through the trees, quietly inching out into the open plain of concrete—

And almost blew Michael's head off when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"_Fuck_, man," J.D breathed, whirling on him, lowering his gun hastily. "Are you insane?"

Michael was pale, almost white, and J.D shut up instantly when he realized Alice was missing.

"What happened?" he asked hoarsely, when it became clear Michael wasn't going to offer any explanations.

Michael shook his head. "Umbrella," he said, his expression still one of shock as he continued. "J.D, they were there for Alice—they completely ignored me."

J.D just stared at him, feeling completely overwhelmed. Everything had fallen apart in a matter of minutes, and now Alice—the only hope they had of fixing things—was gone.

Michael must have come out of his stupor long enough to notice J.D's expression, because he said, "J.D, we'll get through this. We'll wait for Rain and Demitrov, and then we'll figure out what we're going to do."

J.D looked back at him, remembering, suddenly, that Michael and Alice had seen everything go down over the video cameras and asked carefully, "Where are they?"

Michael flashed him what was obviously supposed to be a relieving smile. "Demitrov and Rain were still together and heading for an exit last time I saw them."

J.D nodded distractedly, struck despite himself at the reversal of their roles—less than a month ago, it would have been him comforting a nervous, rookie Michael.

Things had changed. More than he had realized.

They were interrupted by Alexei, who slipped through the last branches separating them with barely a sound despite the fact he'd obviously been running.

Rain wasn't behind him. She wasn't anywhere close by, either, judging by the look of exhausted guilt written over Alexei's face.

J.D didn't bother waiting for an explanation. "Where the hell is Rain?" he demanded.

Alexei shoved his white blond hair back with a shaky hand; but his blue eyes, when he met J.D's, were still carefully blank. "She got hit."

A flash of panic shot through J.D and he voiced the unspoken comment. "And you just _left_ her there?"

"I didn't have a fucking choice!" Alexei shouted in response. "They only way we were going to be able to rescue her is if I left her—"

He cut out abruptly, looking away, and J.D took the opportunity to let out a disgusted, "Right. It was completely selfless."

"You need my knowledge of Umbrella to get back in there," Alexei said, his tone laced with forced control.

"Well, that's just fucking great," J.D spat at him. "'Cause Alice is in there too."

"And we'll get them both out," Michael interjected, clearly sick of the argument already, and they both turned to look at him. "Demitrov, you made the right choice. We'll find them."

"If they're even still fucking alive," J.D muttered bitterly.

Alexei collapsed to the ground in an exhausted heap, clutching a bloody ankle, and J.D glared at him. _Poor baby,_ he thought sarcastically, clamping his mouth shut to avoid saying it out loud.

To his surprise, Alexei looked up at him, his blue eyes uncomfortably intense as he spoke. "Rain is alive, J.D. I swear."

It was the first time Alexei had referred to him by his first name, and that, more than anything, cut off his angry response.

Looking at him, he realized suddenly that Alexei was falling apart, in the way only Alexei Demitrov knew how—his blue eyes were open and pained, that empty, icy blankness missing for once, and he looked exhausted, pale blond hair mussed over his head and face dirty.

Alexei hadn't made the right choice when he'd left Rain alone, but he'd made the only intelligent one under the circumstances.

And it was obvious, looking at him now, that he actually cared about her, wasn't just fucking around with her like J.D had assumed he would.

Whether he wanted to be or not, they were bonded now, in that common connection with Rain.

But he still hated Alexei for it.

J.D turned away, not wanting to say more and not trusting himself to keep his mouth shut.

The sun was high in the sky now, it's heat beating down upon all of them, it's brightness grotesque in the situation—J.D felt like it should be night, in the middle of a thunderstorm, or even a hurricane to match up to the events of the last few hours.

Because no matter how sunny it was, or how much time was left in the day, it didn't change anything.

Their mission had failed.

And Rain and Alice were still inside.


	4. Chapter Four: Descending Into Hell

Title: Final Illuminations

Author: Malenkaya

Rating: R for violence and swearing

Summary: RE movie fanfiction. In this sequel to "Fading Away" and "Into the Light", Alice, Michael, Rain and J.D continue in their efforts to defeat Umbrella, finding along the way new allies, new enemies—and new hope for Matthew Addison.

Disclaimer: I'm feeling daring, so I'm not going to post one. Ever again! So ha ha. If, strangely and ironically, I disappear from due to this heinous offence, I will be found under "TMonkey".

Feedback: Please! I live and breathe reviews! Flames, as long as they're explanatory, are fine.

Author's Notes:

Ten reviews, wow! I'd like to thank the following for their wonderful reviews of chapter three: DarkPrincessPyro99, XMaster, rain1657, sarahvspsycheotic, masked-in-your-shadows, Violet Eternity, Kim Hughes, FREAKSHOW1, Gabzilla, and Sakura123; I really appreciate it. Please keep reviewing:)

Now, about this chapter—I wrote it in two hours on October 16th, and seriously considered posting it early before ultimately deciding not to:) Anyways, it is short—barely eight pages—but I, for one, love it. I really do. That may be conceited, but I am really enjoying writing this right now—after a massive replanning in September, I'm really confident about where this story is and where it's going to go.

Also.. has anyone been watching LOST? Michelle Rodriguez is a regular actress on the second season, and it's a really good show itself, so… you should watch :)

Also, congratulate me, I got a job! My first really big job (even though it's just as a waitress). It's been really fun, and updates will continue the best I can manage—I actually find myself wanting to write more often now that I have so much less time to do so, LOL.

Also, something I'm curious about—does anyone in here know of any music they feel fits in particularly well with the whole trilogy or characters? I only ask because I just realized I tend to listen to the same group of songs when I'm writing and reading, LOL, for pretty much anything, and wondered if anyone else did the same.

Anyway, sorry about the lengthy author notes this time! Chapter five will be updated on November 11th.

Chapter Four: Descending Into Hell

In all anticipated mistakes, all possible scenarios of exactly how and why this mission could have gone wrong, Alice had never expected it all to happen so fast.

One moment they'd been in the van, watching Alexei wander around, seemingly confused as he searched for his contact—and in the next, the van doors had been thrown open and they'd been invaded by Umbrella agents that had overwhelmed them in seconds.

They should have posted a guard by the van. They should have paid more attention. Alice should have demanded Alexei inform them all about his contact, in every aspect, so she and her team could at least understand what the hell had happened inside there.

But she hadn't done any of those things, and it was too late now to try.

Michael had escaped—he'd fought valiantly, with astounding bravery only recently acquired so fully, but in the end he'd had to run. For some reason—something Alice didn't want to think about, especially not now—they'd been careful to keep her alive, but Michael was nothing other than a loose end to them.

She could only hope the other three had managed to escape as well.

At the current moment, she was being hustled down Umbrella's hallways, filled with glass and marble, both breathtakingly beautiful and chillingly cold. There were two guards on either side of her, and while those two would have been no problem to take out, the gun sticking into the small of her back behind her eliminated any possibility of escape.

Alice didn't bother trying to ask questions—she didn't expect answers, and she didn't care.

All she had wanted was the anti-virus and an end to this mess—

And now, she was too busy worrying about her team to even think of that anymore.

Her entourage turned another corner, finally stopping in front of a tall, heavy set of wooden doors, woven through with glimmering bits of the same glass and marble that lined every hallway.

There was a keypad by the door, and the guard pressed his hand into the screen provided without a word, Alice watching closely.

The screen flashed blue, and he typed in a series of numbers—despite covering the keyboard with his hand, Alice was able to catch a glimpse of the numbers: 4, 7, 3, 2, 1, 9.

When he caught her look, he sneered, "Don't bother looking, Parks, it's not going to do you any good."

She raised her chin, giving him a look both bored and haughty—he wasn't worth her time, and she knew he knew it as well as she did.

He only scowled at her as the doors slid open and they hustled her inside, halting directly in front of the door.

There was a man inside the room—sitting, tied into to a chair, and Alice felt her heart jump with the thought that it could be Matt there, still alive and waiting for her, before she realized the idiocy of the thought and pushed it out of her mind.

And then she took a closer look, at the pale face and green eyes beneath the man's blood and tears, and let out an involuntary sound of shock. "Anderson?"

James Anderson looked up, his face a mask of guilt and sorrow, and babbled, "I'm sorry, Alice, I didn't want to—"

"But unfortunately, the poor man didn't have a choice."

Another voice in the room, and Alice looked away to see another man enter the room.

She had never seen him before, but looking at his dark hair, the pale blue eyes, the cold arrogance in his assured expression, recognized him instantly.

_Vincent Crawford._

And then the pieces were falling into place, forcing themselves into her recognition as if she'd known them all along—James had been Alexei's contact, and something had happened, someone had made the choice to betray them all—whether Alexei or James had made the call, Alice didn't know.

It didn't matter.

What mattered now was that their plan had been fucked up, had fallen apart out of nowhere, and Crawford had been behind it all.

They'd never had a chance.

She could feel tears stinging the back of her eyes, and blinked them back—now wasn't the time to get emotional.

"Crawford," she said simply, and took pride in the cool steadiness of her voice.

He inclined his head, acknowledging her smoothly. "Alice."

The sound of her name on his tongue was cold, eerie, and somehow so very wrong—like in saying it alone, he had stolen a piece of her, and Alice shivered inwardly.

He nodded towards his office. "Would you like to come in and have a seat?" he asked politely, and she marveled at the sinister quality he managed to interject into every kind, polite thing he had said so far.

"I'll stand," Alice said coldly, "Thanks."

The guards' grip on her upper arm tightened, and she tensed, ready to put up a last fight if necessary—

"There will be no need for that, Haddock," Crawford snapped at the guard, and Alice could almost feel the fear from the guard as he not only loosened his grip, but let go of her entirely.

They all backed away from her, as if leaving her completely to Crawford, and the action only made Alice feel more vulnerable.

When Crawford turned to look at her again, his expression was one of the slightest amusement. "I have a few questions for you, Alice."

Alice folded her arms across her chest, raising an eyebrow at him and giving him a cool smile. "I'm sure you've realized by now I won't be giving you any answers."

At this, Crawford actually laughed—and it had the effect he had obviously wanted, because Alice cringed, but didn't back down, glaring at him now.

"Good," he said, an almost proud tone in his voice. "There'll be time later to… convince you."

Alice didn't know what he meant by the comment—she didn't care.

By that time, she planned to be far, far away from here, with Umbrella reduced to ruble.

"In the mean time," Crawford announced, as if seeing right through her silent demeanor, "We'll take a little field trip."

He smiled at her, and the malicious intent practically pouring out of him enveloped Alice in it's grip, chilling her to the core, and she realized that no matter what they were going to see now—she probably would have preferred the torture.

xxxxx

"So what are we going to do?" J.D asked finally.

They were still in the forest, on the outskirts of the corporation. The sun had already risen far into the sky by now, and Michael was burning in the all-black clothing covering him practically from head to toe.

He shrugged when J.D stared at him—despite his words earlier, he had no idea where to begin, and J.D turned an accusing stare on Demitrov.

"Well?" he asked, and Demitrov glared up at him.

"First?" he asked, his Russian accent thickened with fear and pain. "I'm wrapping up my fucking ankle, J.D."

J.D scowled. "Well, that's productive."

"And standing there blaming everyone else is?" Demitrov shot back at him, and although Michael normally would have tried to intercept the argument by now, he agreed with the comment.

"You're the one who said he knew what he was doing," J.D said darkly. "You're the reason this whole thing fell apart, and you're the reason Rain and Alice are still inside."

Demitrov gave him a look of pure exasperation. "Didn't we just go over this five seconds ago?" he demanded to no one in particular.

"You didn't have an answer then, either!" J.D fired back as an answer.

Despite his injured ankle, Demitrov stood and faced J.D; even two inches shorter than J.D he somehow managed to tower over him as he said, the same darkness leaking into his own voice, "Do you want to know who's fault this is, _Salinas?"_

True to his nature, J.D didn't back down. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"If we had gotten out of there when I made the call," Demitrov told him, his tone both condescending and apoplectic, "Instead of standing around and arguing, thanks to _your_ idiocy, we wouldn't have gotten trapped, we wouldn't have gotten separated, and Rain wouldn't have gotten shot."

His tone took a turn towards absolute disgust as he added finally, "You want to know who's to blame for this Salinas? Try looking in the fucking mirror."

It was one of the only things Demitrov had probably ever said that actually got J.D's attention—clearly at a loss, expression battling between guilt and fury, he had absolutely nothing to say.

So he punched Demitrov instead.

Michael stood immediately, ready to intervene—

But didn't have to.

Despite his twisted ankle, Demitrov barely faltered—he only stumbled back briefly, and when J.D came at him with his fists raised, didn't even bother fighting back.

Instead, he shoved J.D back, hard, and shouted, "Fuck off, Salinas!"

It had no effect on J.D, and Demitrov grabbed the collar of his shirt in both hands, yanking him towards him and saying, his voice emphatic and furious, "You want to help Rain and Alice, J.D? Back the fuck off and start working on an actual plan that doesn't involve blaming every other goddamn person besides yourself."

J.D looked shaken, and Michael felt a strong wave of pity go through him—he was close to Rain, was protective of her—and with Alice missing too, everything had fallen apart drastically fast.

Demitrov let J.D go, stepping back, his expression back to one of exhaustion and disgust as he added, "This shit isn't important right now."

Still looking stunned, J.D nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said, his tone full of guilt and weariness. "Yeah, Demitrov, you're right."

Demitrov gave a satisfied nod. "Damn rights I am," he muttered under his breath, dropping back down onto the ground and reaching out to Michael with a scowl. "Give me the damn tape, Cahill."

Michael did so, unable to stifle a small smile.

Rage probably wasn't the best way to start expressing himself, but finally, Demitrov was starting to drop the icy walls around him—and in the end, that was only going to help them more.

There was a short, companionable silence as the three men, united by one common goal, finally began to focus on the problem at hand—

And then the gunfire erupted.

xxxxx

There was no pain.

She had just been shot twice, in the fucking abdomen, and there was no pain.

Of course, that was probably due to the fact that they were obviously tranquilizer darts—and right now, Rain was well on her way to complete unconsciousness.

She was lying sprawled out on the cold floor, shivering uncontrollably; there was blood on her stomach, trickling down her sides like cool, icy raindrops, and her head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

Through hazy vision, she could see Umbrella's agents surrounding her, guns still at the ready—she was deaf to them, her ears swimming like they'd been filled with water, and with tremendous effort, she shook her head clear.

Sound trickled in, enough to hear that one of the guards was still further back, radioing in to his superior. Rain couldn't hear the answer, couldn't see the expression on the man's face as he hung up the phone, didn't know whether the news was going to be good or bad for her.

One of the agents shoved a booted foot down onto her abdomen, turning her over—she let out an involuntary cry of pain, biting her lip to silence it.

And then the questions began.

She couldn't even keep track of them all—the words washed over her in a jumble of incessant questions and shouted threats, and she could feel herself shaking again, in a combination of rage and fear.

And then, finally: "Tell us about Alexei Demitrov."

The question was completely unexpected, and she forced her eyes open again, trying to focus on the hazy vision swimming in front of her.

They seemed to note the change in focus, and one leaned in front of her, his face almost directly over hers—she tried to scowl at him, but couldn't focus on him clearly enough to know whether she was glaring at him or the fucking wall.

"Tell us," the same man repeated, his voice now both distinctly threatening and eager, "About Alexei Demitrov."

Rain wondered blearily what he wanted to know—she wondered if one of these men had been the contact Alexei had been so sure he'd kept carefully secret.

She swallowed slightly, trying to get the dryness out of her throat, and then spoke, carefully enunciating the single word: "No."

Even through vision growing consistently more bleary, she could see the man scowl—

And then he hit her across the face, and even though she could see the other men moving forward, presumably to do the same, she was unconscious before her head hit the floor.

xxxxx

If there was anything Alice had learnt about the inner workings of the Umbrella corporation today, it was that every single fucking pathway looked the exact same.

It made it hard to concentrate on where she was going, especially with the hurried pace they kept up throughout—probably to discourage her from _trying_ to figure out where they were going.

But despite the hurried pace, she was heartened to see the code was apparently the same at every door, and by the time they reached the door they'd been heading for, the numbers had already been burned firmly into her mind.

_4, 7, 3, 2, 1, 9._

They stopped, this time in front of a set of high, deeply set glass doors—Crawford looked back, for what reason, Alice couldn't tell—and then, producing a key from his pocket, inserted into the lock and pushed the doors open.

As they passed through, Alice looked up at the words clearly embedded, in fine gold print, into the glass, and felt a sickening sense of dread.

_Umbrella Corporation Laboratory._

They passed through the doors, walking down a seemingly endless hallway—there were windows set on either side of them, searching into separate laboratory rooms, and Alice felt a chill run through her as she was reminded instantly of the room she'd woken up in after the Hive incident.

_"Matt!"_

Her own screams were echoing inside her head again, and she pushed back tears, not wanting to think about him—not now, when she had a sinking suspicion she already knew what Crawford was taking her to see.

While most of the rooms contained basic medical laboratories, filled with people producing and packaging different varieties of chemical solutions, a few were filled with test subjects, both animals, and people, and Alice felt sick looking inside the rooms.

Some of the people were caged, screaming and crying; others were clearly too far gone to bother, staring dismally out the window at her, their gazes both accusing and fearful—but few were fighting back, seeming to understand, despite their will to survive, that it was already far too late to try.

Alice looked away.

She only looked up again when they stopped, staring at Crawford instead of through the window in front of them.

He gave her an icy smile that didn't reach his eyes, nodding towards the room, and with the resigned air of a prisoner prepared for execution, Alice looked inside.

It wasn't what she had been expecting.

Hades was inside, locked in a cryogenic chamber—icy vapors spreading up around him, the monstrosity curled into itself as if seeking protection.

Peering past the chamber, Alice could see the message written into the labeling board.

_Execution Date: November 10th. _

She looked to Crawford for explanation, and he smiled blandly at her. "Unfortunately," he said coolly, "Hades wasn't up to our standards."

Alice stared at him for a moment before turning her gaze back to the mutation inside the room.

Unconsciously, her hand flew to her ring finger, where she twisted the gold ring sitting there still carefully around her finger.

She had meant to get rid of it, but had never gotten around to it—and she felt a wave of sorrow go through her for her husband.

They hadn't parted on good terms, and Spence, in the end, hadn't been a good person—but nobody deserved this fate.

And despite the guilt it brought about, she felt an overwhelming sense of relief that it was only this Crawford had brought her to see.

If he thought this was going to gain a reaction out of her, he was dead wrong.

"Fortunately," Crawford continued, when she turned to raise an eyebrow at him, "We had something much better planned."

The icy chill returned with full force, and she could feel herself paling, all available retorts disappearing instantly as he smirked at her before turning, leading their continuing march down the hallway.

xxxxx

With no ceremony or grandeur, Thomas Robinson slipped the syringe he held in one gloved hand into the chemical solution he held in the other, carefully drawing it into the needle.

He had, after all, done it before. Many times.

The task done, he turned to look at the test subject on the floor where it lay, cringing and shivering.

He stifled a sigh—the subject's behavior was pathetic, and it was at times like this he had to remind himself what he was doing was ultimately going to benefit society.

No matter how many test subjects they had to sacrifice in order to do so.

He gave a short nod to the lab technicians on either side of them, and they hurried forward to take care of the test subject.

Despite their titles, laboratory technicians in Umbrella were merely glorified henchmen.

It was the doctors, in the end—like himself—who truly made a difference.

The two technicians dragged the test subject forward, kicking and screaming, crying like a child despite the fact he was over twenty seven years old already.

It was fascinating, that the virus had caused his mental stature to debilitate so completely, reducing him to the mental, emotional, physical state of a child.

When they had strapped the subject down to the chair in front of him, Doctor Robinson stepped forward, jabbing the syringe into his neck with no precision or gentleness.

In his experience with this subject, he found it ultimately yielded better results.

With a flick of his thumb, he emptied the adrenaline into the subject's system, yanking it out and stepping back to view his results.

The crying stopped instantly, but the screaming began anew, as what had formerly been a human subject rippled grotesquely, his features changing, the skin darkening and hardening to muddy brown, swamp green scales inching over his body.

The thick tubes and metal piping they'd added at a later date, to pack more blood and adrenaline into it's system, leaving it's body cavity free to build more muscle mass, appeared next, twisting around him in a careful web of added technology.

Finally, all expression, all innocence disappeared entirely and then, and only then, Thomas Robinson smiled in satisfaction.

He was looking at Nemesis now.

And then the monster attacked.

xxxxx

The doctor went flying, sending the two assistants with him as Nemesis tore into them, screaming fury, that same hideous scream Alice had been forced to listen to the whole entirety of her time in the metal systems underneath the Hive.

The same screams that had haunted her nightmares for the last three months.

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she held them back, glaring balefully at Crawford as he smiled at her, real amusement in his eyes this time.

How fucking characterized it was of him—that the only time he gave a real smile, broke the ice shielding his every emotion, was at her pain.

And Matt's.

Nemesis broke, tearing for the doctor again—with no false play at bravery, the man grabbed one of his assistants, throwing him at Nemesis instead.

With barely any effort, Nemesis threw the assistant to the floor, tearing into him with one massive hand, adorned with a row of silvery claws—the man screamed, writhing on the floor, and Alice felt like she was going to be sick.

Taking advantage of Nemesis's momentary distraction, the doctor grabbed a syringe of the table, whipping around and stabbing it into Nemesis's neck, just like he'd shoved it into Matt's.

_The anti-virus,_ Alice thought, in almost hysterical desperation, _It's right there._

And for once, her desperation wasn't misplaced.

The effects were instantaneous—Nemesis fell to the floor, and within moments, its screams were replaced with loud sobs as Matt reappeared.

He scuttled backwards, with both hands and feet in a crablike fashion, obviously desperate to get away from the blood that was pouring out of the man on the ground in front of him.

He was naked, innocent and lost like a child, and the guards with her were snickering, pounding on the window and making jokes—Crawford was allowing them to, she could feel his self-satisfied smirk as he stared at her, watching her reaction carefully.

She almost held it together.

But then Matt turned his terrified gaze to the window, obviously looking for the source of the noise, and locked eyes with her.

The dam inside her broke immediately, tears flooding down her face as she stared back at him, witnessing his complete lack of comprehension, the alertness and love she had always seen in that gaze replaced by utter fear and despair.

"Matt," she whispered, and then, forgetting herself entirely, screamed, "Matt!"

Matt only stared at her, tears stopped momentarily in his surprise, eyes a mix of terror and confusion, and it was only then she realized—

He didn't recognize her.

"Matt!" she shouted again, crying feely now, pounding on the glass, unable to stop herself, unable to face facts—as if she kept trying, he would remember.

She would _make _him remember.

The guards and Crawford himself made no attempt to stop her—they were still laughing, still making a mockery out of Matt, and she felt like she wanted to kill them, wanted to do something, anything, to end this.

"Matt," she sobbed, both palms against the window now, staring in at him as he stared back at her, in mute fear and a strange sort of sympathy.

He didn't recognize her.

A trauma team was rushing in now to take care of the fallen assistant, and the doctor was hurrying outside the room to speak with Crawford, but they were dead to Alice—all that mattered was Matt, was the terror and confusion written within his beautiful blue eyes.

All of the weak sentiments that they had tried to apply to his life, had tried to apply to his gravestone, were flying through her head now as she tried to regain her shaky grasp on reality and understand what was happening, finally finishing on one particularly ironical statement:

Matthew Addison—You Came From Heaven.

_And descended into Hell._

And as Matt continued to sob, screaming in fear when the doctor and medical team began to approach him again, all Alice could do was cry.


	5. Chapter Five: Objet Trouvé

Title: Final Illuminations

Author: Malenkaya

Rating: R for violence and swearing

Summary: RE movie fanfiction. In this sequel to "Fading Away" and "Into the Light", Alice, Michael, Rain and J.D continue in their efforts to defeat Umbrella, finding along the way new allies, new enemies—and new hope for Matthew Addison.

Disclaimer: I'm feeling daring, so I'm not going to post one. Ever again! So ha ha. If, strangely and ironically, I disappear from due to this heinous offence, I will be found under "TMonkey".

Feedback: Please! I live and breathe reviews! Flames, as long as they're explanatory, are fine.

Author's Notes:

Firstly, I'd like to apologize for the total lack of thank you notes. I really have been madly busy, and stressed, and although finding the time to write is easy (as I do it during school), finding the time to get it all onto the computer has proven difficult. That being said… thanks again to DarkPrincessPyro99, XMaster, rain1657, sarahvspsycheotic, masked-in-your-shadows, Violet Eternity, Gabzilla, and Sakura123; I really appreciate it :)

To those who have commented—this will still be fairly short. I'm planning on about ten chapters right now, which, after Into the Light… feels pretty short :)

Also, I feel obliged to mention there will be an M/A scene in the next chapter. M who, you might ask? Michael? Matt? Ah ha ha:) I'm sure you all know what I'm talking about, and it is going to play a huge role, so enjoy it:) I am _so_ excited to start writing the next chapter (haven't had time yet).

Thanks again, enjoy :)

Chapter Five: Objet Trouvé

When Rain finally woke up thirty minutes later, she was surprised to find herself not only out of her cell, but in the middle of a church.

The next thing she noticed was the white veil covering her face, and the folds of glittering white fabric covering her body.

The third thing she noticed was Alexei, sitting in a pew three meters away.

Unlike her, he was still dressed normally, in the black jacket and pants he'd been wearing when she'd last seen him crouched carefully over her in Umbrella's hallway, one warm hand carefully probing her wound.

The stricken expression on his face when he'd turned to run had been replaced by a vaguely ironic smile as he stared out the stained glass window in the ceiling of the church, where moonlight shone in brightly.

In front of him was a bible, and in his hand was a lighter.

"Alexei?" she asked, unsure.

Her voice cut through the silence of the church like a knife, and he turned to stare at her.

"Rain," came the unsteady answer, not from Alexei but from the person behind her, and she turned to see Matt standing there.

He put his hand up, and she could see suddenly the window between them—she put her own hand up against his and wondered why Alice couldn't be here to see this.

Matt's blue eyes shifted from hers to directly over her shoulder; she turned as well, her palm still against the glass.

Alexei was standing in the middle of the altar now, and Alice was directly in front of him, wearing a lacy wedding gown of her own. A black veil covered her face; both were stained in blood, and Alice was crying.

Alexei dropped the lighter, and the altar burst into flames.

Then they were back at Matt's gravesite, the earth in front of them scorched and black—

And Rain woke up on damp cement, shivering, aching, and wet.

She raised herself up slowly, cold, hungry, and pissed, and took in her surroundings.

At first glance, there was nothing to see; nothing but four walls of the same stone and a typical barred door.

There was a sharp pain in her palm, and she looked down to see the silver ring of keys still firmly grasped in her hand.

Memories came flooding back to her then, of being shoved into her cell—

_"Crawford wants her here."_

_The first guard's voice cut through the hazy blackness, and Rain peered up at him in the darkness, her entire body aching. _

_"Why?" _

_Some other guard's voice, obviously a rookie; Rain could tell by the same fucking uncertainty in his tone that Kaplan's had held for so long. _

_But Kaplan had never whined. Not like this idiot had._

_Nor had Kaplan ever been stupid enough to leave his keys hanging out in plain view in the rare event he was part of a prisoner transfer within Umbrella. _

_She grasped the silvery metal without even thinking about it, acting on pure instinct; they slid out his pocket, another mistake—he should have had them attached somehow, this shouldn't be so fucking easy—_

_She almost dropped them when she heard the first guard's response._

_"He's dealing with Parks."_

_Her fist clenched silently around the keys, and she slid them under the small of her back, hiding them beneath her. _

_"What are they—"_

_With her eyes closed, Rain couldn't be sure—but by the resounding thud, she figured the first guard had just slammed the second's head into the bars of her cell door. _

_Umbrella obviously didn't believe in coddling their rookies._

_The second clang came when both exited the cell, banging the door shut behind them._

And then she'd passed out again.

Gazing at the keys in her palm, she shifted through them, and finally realized there was no way to know which one it was—she'd just have to try them all.

She shuffled slowly towards the door, her muscles still cold and aching—whatever Umbrella's guard's had done, it had been pretty fucking effective in slowing her down.

Taking a nap on concrete hadn't helped either.

She inserted the first key into the keyhole, and twisted it.

Nothing.

With a sigh, she moved onto the second.

xxxxx

"I killed William Archangelo."

Alice's voice was raspy and hoarse, a pathetic opposite to the cold confidence it had held only an hour before, and the sound of it filled her with disgust.

Crawford was practically bursting with malicious glee—his plan had obviously been successful, judging by the fact she'd started answering his questions immediately after returning to his office.

She didn't care anymore. The only thing she had cared about—still cared about—was Matt.

And it was already way too late for him.

Some part of her mind knew she had to pull it together, had to focus—if not for her own sake, then the sake of her team.

But the other part of her was still down in the laboratories, looking through that glass bubble that separated her from Matt, only inches and yet miles and miles away from him.

She had let Matt go once before, when she'd been forced to leave him behind in the Hive, and she had vowed never to let it happen again.

Funny, how history had a way of repeating itself.

"Parks!"

Crawford's voice, barking at her now—she stared dully at him, and was gratified, if only briefly, to see that he had finally been unnerved, if not by her silence than by the loss and detachment she could feel settling around her like a shroud, choking her in it's midst.

He slammed his hand down on his desk, his blue eyes like shards of ice as he repeated, "Tell me about Alexei Demitrov."

Alice shrugged, staring back out the window. Already high in the sky, the sun was lit against a brilliant backdrop of clear blue sky, not a cloud in sight—infinity materialized, directly outside her window, and Alice wondered if she could walk straight through it, enter into a world inverted, where Matt was safe and whole again, and she had never stumbled into this nightmare.

She could sense Crawford's rising impatience, and turned her gaze back on him, giving him a tired, utterly useless glare. "What do you want to know?"

Crawford just stared at her, and she stared back, completely uncaring about the malicious intent she could see swimming beneath his every twitch, every corner, every expression.

Then a smile crossed his face, and she felt a weary exhaustion threatening to overtake her as she realized this wasn't over. Not yet.

Crawford had hit upon a bargaining chip with her, and he was obviously unwilling to let it go.

"Let's talk about Matthew Addison," he said, tone deceptively bright, and the sound of his name issuing forth from Crawford's voice made Alice feel sick. "Shall we?"

Alice ignored him, staring back outside the window—she could feel tears starting behind her eyes again.

This time, she didn't bother holding them back—it was too late for that now, and they slipped down her face silently as Crawford continued to talk.

"He was calling your name the first time," he said carefully, studying her reactions. "We were injecting him with every solution known to us, and all he could worry about was you."

Despite her every instinct, screaming at her to look away, Alice looked back at him.

He looked triumphant as he continued. "It took him a week to forget his own name, and it took him a month to forget yours. We put him through every treatment we had—shock treatments, forced mutation, even resorted to physical torture when the situation called for it, and he continued to call out for you. Beg you to help him."

A slight pause and a smirk crossed over his face before he continued, "Funny how the human body works that way, isn't it? That emotional triggers last far longer than mental knowledge and memory."

He leant forward on his desk, drawing her into his blue eyes—the same shade of cloudless blue sky as Matt's.

But while looking into Matt's eyes had represented passion, and love, and shared hopes and promises—even now, when they were devoid of all other emotion other than fear—looking into Crawford's eyes was like being dragged into a torturous form of Hell.

"He loved you, Alice," he said slowly, every word dropping off his tongue like poison, violating the words as he said them, studying her carefully as he did so.

"I will kill you."

She said the words without even thinking them, her voice shaking with a barely controlled rage as she did so—and she realized that she herself was shaking, clenching the arms on her chair tightly to avoid launching herself at him. "Do you understand me? _I will kill you."_

She had no idea what she was saying, where these words were coming from—Crawford looked distinctly amused, and she had no idea what she hoped to accomplish by saying any of this.

All that she knew was that it wasn't too late. It couldn't be. They had the anti-virus—she had seen it herself—and she would come back and get it, no matter what the cost.

She would save Matt.

Or she would die trying.

The thought, and the calm, cold certainty of it, calmed her more than any other weak reassurances ever had, and she could feel herself, and the tension within the room, deflate slightly as she grasped onto it, holding onto it as if her very life depended upon it.

Alice barely flinched when the alarms went off, but the reaction in the rest of the room's occupants was instantaneous—the guards still behind her were instantly on high alert, holding their weapons at the ready in front of them and flooding out to flock the doorway.

Crawford stalked over to the desk, lifting the phone and barking, "What the hell is going on out there?"

Alice listened with some interest to the scared, high pitched voice coming through on the other end of the phone, but couldn't make out the words.

In the end, she didn't have to.

Crawford slammed down the phone without responding, and looked towards the door, his expression now distinctly furious.

"Nemesis," he spat, "Has escaped."

xxxxx

The fifteenth key had finally opened the door.

Rain had been wandering around for twenty minutes now, and she still had no idea where the hell she was.

On the bright side, she'd managed to find her way out of the prison—it hadn't been hard, considering the way out had been one long tunnel.

Besides that, she'd managed to find a passable weapon as well; some guard had left it on the floor, probably the same idiot that she'd taken the damn keys from.

The end of the iron baton had been coated in blood and a fine sheen of grayish slime that, despite all she'd seen with Umbrella, she still carefully avoided—but it was something, at least.

Wandering blindly around Umbrella's corridors wouldn't have been so bad if she'd been able to stop thinking about Alexei for fifty seconds.

She didn't want to believe he'd been behind this whole mess.

J.D would have been quick to point out all the tiny little details, all the nagging little factors that so clearly stated Alexei was to blame here—and she would have ignored him, recognizing his suspicions as both protective worry and misplaced guilt and paranoia after the whole Olivia fiasco.

Unfortunately, the more time she had to think about it, the more she became convinced that, at least in this case, J.D would be right.

She didn't want to believe Alexei was to blame.

But what the fuck did she know? Alexei hadn't—and still wouldn't—tell them anything. For all she knew, he was Crawford's personal right hand.

The second part of the issue with wandering blindly down the hallways was that the alarms had gone off five minutes ago.

After the first ten minutes, she'd given up trying to avoid the cameras; she knew, after working for Umbrella for more than three years, that they wouldn't exactly fixate their cameras in the corners like so many other idiots did.

Umbrella was smart enough to put them where they wouldn't be seen, and trying to avoid them was useless.

She had the baton, but unless Umbrella actually sent a couple of idiots with no weapons other than some basic wrestling skills, this wasn't a fight she was going to win.

With the pain still radiating in her abdomen, she wasn't even sure she'd manage a round with them.

The blinding pain had given way to a dull cramping that she could handle with ease—she knew, from experience, that the tranq effects would last for a few more hours at least.

However, judging from the shooting pain in her chest, she had a feeling there were at least a couple ribs cracked, if not broken, by the guard's kindly welcome.

She turned another corner, the alarms already numbed down to a steady drone, and dropped her baton.

It hit the floor, the dull thud resounding through the hallway.

The figure on the floor didn't flinch.

It was turned away from her, shivering and pale and freakishly thin, ribs showing through almost bluish skin; a silvery collar was the only thing it wore, wrapped around it's neck like some sort of torture device.

The sounds coming from it were uncomfortably human-sounding, whimpers of pain and fear, and she crept closer cautiously, stooping to pick up her baton as she did so.

If it so much as moved, she'd bash it's head in.

Within a few steps, she'd realized that it—that he—was human.

Human, and uncomfortably familiar, with dark brown hair, graceful, strong hands covering a square forehead and tearful face.

It was impossible.

And yet, the whisper slipped out before she could stop it.

"Matt?"

xxxxx

It had been over an hour since Rain and Alice had been captured, and they were still out here, sweating under the blazing sun and doing nothing.

Shaking Umbrella's guard's hadn't been difficult—they hadn't even bothered to pursue them when they'd run further into the forest, obviously having only been instructed to chase them off the grounds.

Alexei was sitting on a tree stump, staring off in the distance. His ankle wrapped, his face had slipped back into it's stoical mask, making J.D feel distinctly uncomfortable.

When Alexei looked pissed, at least it was something J.D could go on—something he could reassure himself as evidence to the fact that Alexei Demitrov was human after all.

But sitting frozen like that, J.D had no idea what the hell he was thinking or planning.

Michael wasn't much fucking help either—despite his early control and calm, it had become clear he had no more idea what to do than either of them did.

If they went in and got caught, both Alice and Rain were fucked. If they didn't, Rain and Alice were still fucked. It wasn't a hard equation.

Unfortunately, that meant sitting here, and waiting. Waiting for an opportunity, an inevitable break in guard when Umbrella would relax their high alert and return their focus to what was going on inside.

None of them had any idea when that would be—it could be in a matter of hours, or a matter of days.

Meanwhile, Rain and Alice were inside, suffering imprisonment, torture, and God knew what else.

"We should just go," J.D said for what felt like the hundredth time, breaking the unsteady silence. "This isn't doing anything."

Michael glanced up at him wearily. "J.D, if we go in now, we won't even make it past the parking lot."

"And if we wait, Rain and Alice might be dead by the time we go in," J.D countered.

"I told you," Michael said, sounding tired. "We don't have a choice. They're expecting us to come in—probably counting on it. If we wait, at least we'll have some element of surprise."

"Barely," J.D countered.

Michael didn't argue, but inclined his head in a weary sort of agreement. "It's all we have."

"Pretty fucking useless, if you ask me," Alexei drawled, and J.D turned to look at him, feeling a tinge of both comradeship and wariness at the shared opinion.

Alexei met his gaze plainly, giving him a bland smile. "So of course, we could follow your plan, Salinas. That way, we'd be sure to fail, instead of just damned likely to."

J.D let out a snort of disgust, shaking his head. "We should just go," he repeated under his breath, in no mood to argue with Alexei again—despite his dislike of the man, his earlier comments had struck a chord with him.

"J.D," Michael said, some warning in his tone.

"Look," J.D cut him off forcefully, knowing that what he was arguing was stupid, but not caring. They had to do _something_, or he was going to go insane. "We can't just sit here. If we go in now, we can at least have some chance of finding Rain and Alice before they're both dead."

Michael glared at him, an angry sort of energy lighting his eyes now. "With no cover, J.D? Just march in there while everyone's on high alert?"

"We have to do _something,_" J.D argued sharply.

"Rain's right," Alexei said shortly, glaring at him. "You are an idiot."

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" J.D snapped at him.

Michael put his head in his hands, letting out a weary sigh of exhaustion that they both ignored.

"Would you sit down, Salinas?" Alexei demanded.

"Right, just sit around," J.D said sarcastically. "That'll accomplish something."

"What the fuck is the matter with you, J.D?" Michael asked, lifting his head from his hands, his voice angry and exasperated—and with the words, and the tone he spoke them in, he sounded so startlingly similar to Alice both J.D and Alexei just stared at him.

"Alexei's right," Michael explained tiredly, ignoring their looks. "Rain's right. I know you're upset, but you're being an idiot."

J.D stared at him; Michael refused to meet his eyes, and he felt distinctly unsettled by his words.

When Alexei commented on his behavior, J.D pretty much dismissed it as bullshit. He didn't particularly care how reasonable that was—after Olivia, there was no way in hell he was trusting someone who'd edged their way into the group ever again.

But Michael—praise, and criticism, was like praise and criticism from Alice. Neither of them altered their words from their meaning, and neither of them said something they didn't mean.

Hearing the same thing from Michael meant there might actually be some merit to it.

"I didn't—" he started, faltering uselessly.

But it didn't matter, because they weren't looking at him anymore—they were looking past him, looking shocked and worried, and J.D turned as well, half expecting to see some Umbrella mutation directly behind him.

What he didn't expect to see was Alice, looking cool and refined as if she'd just stepped out a European opera rather than Umbrella's dead corporation.

"How did you get out?" J.D demanded without stopping to consider the words, and Alice fixed her bright blue eyes on him.

Her gaze, despite being trained directly on him, was uncomfortably detached as she answered coolly, "I walked."

Michael was next to find his voice, asking carefully, "Are you okay?"

She didn't speak, only stared at him as well, and Alexei broke the silence. "What happened?"

His voice was quiet, urgent—and they could all see now how clear it was, the absolute volumes her silence spoke.

Something had happened inside Umbrella.

Michael hurried forward, placing a careful arm around her waist and leading her into their group, directly past J.D; she allowed it as if nothing was happening, sitting only when Alexei and Michael pulled her down gently.

"Alice," it was Alexei who spoke this time, his voice urgent. "Alice, Rain is still inside. We need to know what happened."

Alice shook her head, refocusing only slightly at the mention of Rain. "I didn't see her," she said, her voice almost apologetic. "I just—"

She shook her head, whispering, "I don't know."

Her hands, folded in her lap, were shaking.

Michael and Alexei looked at each other, seeming to forget he was there, and J.D weighed his options carefully in his head.

Something felt wrong—it was that same sensation he got whenever he walked into one of Umbrella's traps, every time he'd entered the Hive.

That same feeling he had gotten—and ignored—every single time Rain had brought up her suspicions about Olivia.

Something had obviously happened to Alice, and Alice was obviously in shock.

For all they knew, it would be hours before they could get inside; and even then, unless Alice was ready by then, it would be with two men instead of three.

It would only take him a minute.

And before he could stop and think about it, before he could allow Michael's earlier warnings to seep into his brain, J.D turned and slipped away.

xxxxx

"Matt?"

The figure tensed, as did her grip on the baton.

And then he turned, pulling his hands from his face and pulling in a shaky gasp of air, and Rain almost dropped the baton again.

It was him. Matt. Shaking, dirty, bruised and beaten, but _human_, and staring up at her, his face a strange blend of terror and curiosity.

He didn't recognize her, and Rain swallowed hard, unsure of what to do.

"Matt," she whispered again, reaching out a hand to him—

And jumping back, unable to help it, when he flinched violently in reaction and turned away from her, crawling towards the wall.

She watched helplessly as he reached it and collapsed against it, turning to stare at her with wide, terror-struck blue eyes.

He was naked, and she felt a hot flash of embarrassment and anger for him, keeping her eyes carefully focused on his face, locking her brown eyes with his unsteady blue ones—

And realizing, too late, that his gaze was locked firmly over her shoulder.

The first blow to her head sent her careening into the wall, and she ducked the second only to be slammed into the wall a second time, collapsing to the ground.

Her head was spinning, and some part of her realized she was about to black out.

She forced her eyes open, curling slightly to brace her palms against the floor—if she passed out, her and Matt were both helpless, and she had no intentions of letting that happen.

Fortunately, the idiot had turned away from her, obviously convinced he'd done his job—judging by the white lab coat he wore, he wasn't even a fucking security worker, had only happened upon them by accident.

"They're in Hallway B, on Level two. Both Ocampo and Addison. Both are incapacitated—"

And, apparently, he was radioing in.

Her fingers slid carefully around the baton that had wound up a few feet away from her, and she stood carefully.

At the last minute, he seemed to sense her presence and turned—

And she smashed the iron baton into his head, hearing the sickening sound of skull collapsing in on itself as he crumpled.

She smashed the radio as well, just for good measure, and turned back to Matt, dropping the baton on the floor without bothering with precision or ceremony.

In less than five minutes, this hallway was going to be swarmed with Umbrella agents, and Rain had a feeling her baton was going to be pretty fucking useless right about then.

Matt was still against the wall, trembling and vulnerable, obviously scared, and Rain felt a brief flash of helplessness.

She wasn't leaving without Matt.

Unfortunately, if she couldn't get him to trust her long enough to get him out of here, they were both fucked.

"Matt," she said carefully, dropping to her knees, trying to speak to him at the same level. "Matt, c'mon. You can trust me."

He only stared at her; hesitantly, she crawled forward slightly, holding out her hand to reachable distance. "Matt, please?"

Nothing changed in his expression, and for one terrifying moment, she didn't think anything would—that Umbrella would swoop down upon them, and they'd both be gone.

And then he placed his hand in her carefully, hesitantly, like a child, and she squeezed it gently, mustering a small smile.

He didn't return it—he was still obviously scared, and Rain felt sick looking at him, looking at this tiny, frightened shell that stared at her with such fear.

Matt had never, ever looked at her like that. Matt had always been strong, and brave, and had never shown her this kind of weakness.

Looking at him now, she couldn't help being glad that Alice, at least, wasn't here.

Letting Matt go was hard, but seeing him like this—would kill Alice.

And unfortunately, unless she could get Matt back by the time they left this place, it was going to happen anyway.

She pushed the thought away, saying urgently, "Matt, we have to go, okay?"

He stared at her nervously as she stood, still grasping his hand, tugging on it slightly, feeling like the was dealing with an overgrown child.

She couldn't help but remember their first time in the Hive, and how her, Alice, and Matt had all survived together. How Matt, despite her shoving him around and handcuffing him moments after meeting him, had been the first to notice when she'd grown too weak to walk—had carried her through the Hive, even though it was an obviously useless cause.

Now she had to carry him.

"C'mon, up," she demanded, and abandoning all measures of hesitancy, bent down and grasped him under the arms, pulling him up.

He was heavy, a full fifty pounds more than her despite how thin he'd gotten; but he tried to help as well, pushing himself up and draping himself over her, obviously too weak to stand.

She was touching him in places meant only for Alice, and felt embarrassed despite herself, trying to shift him so they could both walk properly.

It took too much time.

She froze when she heard the click of a safety being uncocked; when the sound magnified itself, Matt detached himself from her with another fearful cry, practically shoving her off balance with the force of it.

Lifting her chin, she turned to face them, a crowd of over fifty guards, taking care to ensure she stood in front of Matt—whatever happened, all she cared about was making sure he stayed alive.

It was dead silent in the room, and she realized, suddenly, that she could no longer hear Matt behind her.

The guards were no longer looking at her, but over her shoulder, and despite the risk she turned as well.

Matt was gone.

She was now looking at Nemesis.

The guards fired, and the air was filled with the deafening sound of gunfire as Rain dropped to the ground immediately, crawling out of the way, covering her head as she glanced up at the scene taking place in front of her.

The guards were still firing, bullets tearing into the monstrosity that had been Matthew Addison, and Nemesis tore through them like nothing was happening.

After all she had seen with Umbrella, Rain wasn't squeamish. She never had been, and she never would be.

But when the blood and gore began to spatter all over the walls like a Jackson Pollock painting, she closed her eyes.

Only to open them again, in shock and disbelief, when she heard J.D calling her name.

He came running into the room, took one look at her lying on the ground, covered in blood and gore as Nemesis tore into the guards still firing wildly past her—

And, for some inconceivable reason, lifted his weapon and took careful aim at Nemesis.

"No!" Rain shouted hoarsely at him, shoving herself to her feet. "No, J.D, put the fucking gun down—"

The guards that could still run were running now, taking advantage of the momentary distraction, and J.D fired, sending bullets rocketing forth from the MP5 into Nemesis and then into the wall as Rain slammed into him, throwing his aim off completely.

"What the hell are you doing, Rain?" he shouted at her as she shoved him back against the wall.

Nemesis turned, starting for them, and they both tensed; J.D made a move to fire again, and Rain slammed him back into the wall, wincing when she heard his head connect to it—

And then gunfire erupted again, and three things happened at once.

Nemesis turned and started for the new threat.

The new threat, three remaining Umbrella guards, thought better of their idea and ran.

And J.D crumpled.

Rain faltered under the dead weight, and both fell to the ground, J.D splaying out as Rain checked him over, her heart swelling in panic as she ran her hands over him—

And then J.D swore loudly, shoving her away and turning to grasp his upper arm; his hand came away soaked in blood, and relief crashed over her even as he glared at her. "What the hell is going on?"

She scowled at him, opened her mouth to answer—

But Nemesis was racing after the guards and she shoved herself to her feet, ignoring J.D for the moment, prepared to run after Nemesis if she had to—Matt was still in there somewhere, and she wasn't leaving him.

Halfway down the hall, Nemesis spasmed, it's massive claws wrapping themselves around it's own neck, and Rain saw the collar there sparking with live electricity and realized with horror that they were shocking the monster to keep it docile.

It collapsed, it's features melding gracelessly into Matt's—the bulk and metallic disappearing into visible ribs and smooth white skin as his sobs filled the air again.

J.D stumbled up to stand behind her, staring at the sight in front of them with both shock and almost perverse amazement. "What the fuck is that?"

"That?" Rain asked tiredly, turning to look at him.

"That's Matt."

xxxxx

Sometime while they'd been sitting here, trying to bring Alice out of her dazed stupor, J.D had slipped off.

And despite being angry at him for his idiocy, Michael was angrier at himself for not having been able to see it coming.

After a string of angry cursing, Alexei had stalked off as well for no other reason than to let out his own anger, leaving Michael alone with a practically catatonic Alice.

Nothing had changed in the last twenty minutes; Alice was still staring up at the blue sky above them, her hands folded carefully in her lap, shaking slightly.

Michael sat silently, unsure of what to do or say—with his limited amount of medical training, if it had just been shock that had been keeping Alice so quiet, this would have been an entirely different situation.

But shock had given way to a silent sort of composure; and though she had stopped shaking so fully, her hands still trembled.

"Michael?"

When she finally broke the silence, her voice was barely more than a whisper, and he started in surprise. "Do you think Matt—do you think he could still be okay?"

He stared at her, expecting to see that same blankness in her eyes; but when she turned to meet his gaze, her blue eyes were distant but clear, more focused than they'd been in the last twenty minutes.

He considered lying to her; but Alice had never lied to him, and he knew she would want the truth, just as he would have in her situation.

"No," he said quietly, shaking his head. "Alice, Matt's already mutated."

"You said there was an anti-virus," she reminded him, her quiet tone overtaken by an almost desperate sense of urgency. "Remember?"

He felt a hot flush of shame threaten to overtake him as he responded carefully, "Of course. But Alice… Matt didn't make it out of the Hive."

Her voice was quiet again, barely more than a whisper as she responded, "Yes, he did."

Michael started, glancing at her, expecting to see some remaining vestiges of shock or desperation in her eyes, anything to convince him that what she had just said was born only from unfounded hope.

But her gaze as she looked at him was resolute, and he realized, with a sickening twist in his stomach, that he now had a huge dilemma on his hands.

They both jumped up when the rustling of shrubbery became apparent to them, too loud to be only Alexei or any Umbrella guards looking for them.

They didn't have to wait long.

The three figures stumbled into the clearing, each looking dirty and exhausted—Alexei came out from behind them, his typically haughty expression wary as he kept his gun trained on the middle figure.

Alice let out a soft cry of recognition, her gun slipping from her fingers and dropping to the ground, and as Michael stared at the same figure, he realized suddenly the reason for Alice's shock, and for the ensuing questions.

Matthew Addison was standing in front of him.

And he was still human.


	6. Chapter Six: Unholy, Dirty and Beautiful

Title: Final Illuminations

Author: Malenkaya

Rating: R for violence and swearing

Summary: RE movie fanfiction. In this sequel to "Fading Away" and "Into the Light", Alice, Michael, Rain and J.D continue in their efforts to defeat Umbrella, finding along the way new allies, new enemies—and new hope for Matthew Addison.

Disclaimer: I'm feeling daring, so I'm not going to post one. Ever again! So ha ha. If, strangely and ironically, I disappear from due to this heinous offence, I will be found under "TMonkey".

Feedback: Please! I live and breathe reviews! Flames, as long as they're explanatory, are fine.

Author's Notes:

Another starter apology :) I'm really sorry about the thank you notes again. I promise I'll get to them this time; I'm not really sure whether you all actually care if I sent them. I just like doing it, as I personally am a lazy reviewer myself, and know the effort it takes to really write a good, well thought out review. I'm just really busy right now. In fact, I finished this chapter about an hour ago (it's 1 am now), so I suppose that gives you a decent idea of my time frame right now, doesn't it:)

Anyway, huge thank yous must be said to: masked-in-your-shadows, Sakura123, Xmaster, bigfan, DarkPrincessPyro, GrendelXO666 and Kim Hughes. I really do appreciate it.

Ah, yes, a few obligatory remarks:

No, there will be no game characters in this fanfiction, as a few people have already asked, for a number of reasons: firstly, I'm not really interested in adding new characters at this point; every character in this one has been mentioned at least once in Into the Light, thus their appearance has already been planned out and, now, set into motion. I would much rather concentrate on my existing characters to whom I have really gotten into in the past two years. Secondly, I don't really play the games or read the books beyond just for fun, so I have a feeling if I tried to write any of the characters you all would kill me because they'd end up so horribly out of character :)

So that's that. And, of course, the second remark is that the title of this chapter is taken from David Usher's lovely, "Unholy, Dirty, and Beautiful", a song which actually inspired this chapter. So props to him :)

Thank you, enjoy.

Chapter Six: Unholy, Dirty, and Beautiful

Three hours time found them sitting wearily in a brand new home in a modestly decorated neighborhood. The lights above them were dimmed where they sat around a table, one eerily similar to the one where they'd had a nearly identical conversation concerning Matthew Addison four months earlier.

None of them looked happy. Rain, sitting closest to the door, had her legs drawn up on the chair underneath her and looked characteristically moody. Alice, seated next to her, had an unwavering look of stubborn determination that made Michael's heart ache.

It didn't take a genius to see that Matt wasn't okay, and probably never would be again.

Rain had been shaken when she'd explained what had happened inside Umbrella, and it had been painfully clear that, despite her vehement denial of the fact, she was scared of Matt; and neither J.D nor, true to form, Demitrov trusted him. All three of them had nearly blown up at Alice when she'd asked J.D to stay alone with Matt, citing him as 'harmless'.

Despite her arguments, the rest of them had insisted J.D, injured as he was, was not only accompanied by someone else in the group, but a gun as well. Despite the arguments of everyone including Demitrov himself, Demitrov, in the end, had been the one to sit with J.D.

It was the intelligent choice; Demitrov, detached as he was from who Matt had been, was ironically the most likely of the group to be able to defend them all if something went wrong.

If Matt had to be killed—if it came down to that— Alexei wouldn't hesitate.

Somehow, the knowledge comforted Michael.

Because Matt… had come back wrong. In all their hopes of salvation and rescue, none of them had prepared themselves for this bitterly ironic revelation.

And yet, still Alice continued to hope—and that hope both heartened and dismayed Michael.

It meant that not everything had died inside her—that leaving Matt hadn't yet killed her, that she'd survived.

It also made it impossible for her to see sense.

"Matt is safe," Alice repeated stubbornly. "He doesn't need a gun on him."

Michael resisted the urge to slam his head down into the table.

"I don't want to talk about this," Rain said abruptly.

She slid off her chair without looking at either of them and left the room. Michael cast a worried look at her, but Alice barely seemed to notice, leaning forward to continue her argument, her bright eyes glittering in the pale lamplight.

"Michael, Rain said Matt _only_ mutated when he was threatened. If we just keep him safe—"

"Alice, he interrupted, cutting her off softly. "It's not possible. The only way we could keep Matt relaxed enough to stay completely docile until we get the anti-virus is by drugging him, and I don't think that's what you want.

She stared at him, unresponsive.

"Is it?" he asked uncertainly.

Nothing. And then: "We can't keep him in a goddamn _cage_."

She stood, her cheeks flushed, eyes sparking with anger. "This isn't Nemesis we're talking about. We're talking about _Matt_, and we won't keep him locked up like one of Umbrella's monsters—I won't let you."

"Alice," Michael said wearily, letting his head fall into his hands, abandoning all premise of tact. "Whether Matt's dangerous or not, he's not who he was anymore. He never will be again. You know that."

He said the words with the air of an exhausted man, not expecting any of them to actually register to Alice.

A moment passed in silence, and he lifted his head hopefully, thinking that maybe she was finally starting to see sense—

Only to realize, to his horror, that Alice was standing in the middle of the floor, her hands covering her face, shoulders shaking in silent sobs.

"Alice," he said regretfully, clambering wearily to his feet. "Don't—"

She shook her head, holding one hand out to him in warning, and he stopped, watching and feeling distinctly uncomfortable as she struggled to gain composure.

Finally, she took in a shaky breath and turned to him, crossing her arms wearily over her chest.

"Michael, I know, okay?" she whispered. "Believe me, I _know_ all of this already."

She sounded exhausted, and for the first time, he could see past her determined façade; glimpsed the heartache and despair that lurked behind all their masks.

Then the mask slipped down again, and she whispered, "I can fix it Michael, I just need time."

He hesitated, and, if sensing his momentary weakness, she looked fully at him. "_Please_, Michael," she pleaded, her eyes shining with tears again. "Give me a chance."

He knew that it was wrong.

And yet, when he thought of the things he had told her, all the lies and heartache that was bound to come out later anyway, he simply nodded at her, not trusting himself to speak.

Alice gave him a shaky smile. "Thank you," she said quietly, reaching forward almost hesitantly to touch his arm gently. "I appreciate that you—that you trust me. And Matt."

He nodded again, staring at the floor as she hurried from the room, knowing that what she was doing was wrong.

Given time, patience, reassurance, maybe Matt could recall who he was again, or at least regain some resemblance to the man he had been.

But it was a slim chance, and Alice, despite her intentions, would only force Matt further away if she tried to press him.

What she was doing was wrong, and yet Michael said nothing, because he knew what he was doing was wrong as well.

Somewhere along the way, despite the best of their intentions, they'd fallen into the ways of selfishness—J.D's primarily guilt-motivated vendetta against Demitrov, Rain's complete ignorance of J.D's advice because of remaining vestiges of mistrust, Alice's complete denial of all the hard truths involved in saving Matt, and Michael's own tangled web of lies.

What did one more mistake matter?

They were all sinners anyway.

xxxxx

Seeing Matt alive, human if not fully restored, should have made Rain happy.

It only made her numb.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something here was wrong.

Part of her envied Alice for her denial, for that complete, unwavering love that shone throughout wherever Matt was involved.

And yet, that same part of her was standing in front of the door to the single bedroom apartments single bedroom, hand hovering over the doorknob, afraid to look inside and face whatever she might see.

In the kitchen, she heard Michael's and Alice's voices rise; like a small child unwilling to witness her parents fighting, she turned the knob and slipped inside.

It was pitch black in the room, the faint light from the hallway doing nothing to break the darkness, and she closed the door behind her, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

The first thing Rain saw was Matt, almost invisible in the corner.

He was facing the wall, folded into himself, and despite a slight shiver and the blindfold covering his eyes, looked far more relaxed than he'd been earlier.

Taking Matt home had been a fucking nightmare. Once Umbrella had realized Alice was missing, they'd flooded out into the surrounding forest to search for them.

They'd split into groups, Rain, J.D and Alexei providing both cover and distraction while Michael and Alice had hustled Matt through the forest, saddled with the unenviable task of calming him down whenever a gunshot rang through the quiet forest.

Eventually, they'd made it back to inner-city Vegas, and Alexei had chosen a house and broken into it with the relaxed ease that came with experience.

They'd split into two groups again; this time, Michael, Alice and Rain had converged in the kitchen, while Alice and J.D had been left to look over Matt.

While Michael had seemed exhausted, weary and worried about Matt—something they could all relate to—Alice had somehow seemed recharged, almost relieved by what they had both seen in the last hellish hour.

Rain hadn't—didn't—know what to feel; logic was tangled with emotion, and at the moment, she didn't know what she wanted or what she truly believed regarding Matt.

And so she'd left, unwilling to take part in what was obviously going to be a fairly emotional, logic versus emotion argument—she already had enough of that going on in her head, she didn't need to deal with it played out vocally as well.

"Hey."

Rain jumped, pulled from her thoughts, and turned to see J.D sitting on the bed by the door, his eyes dark.

"Hey," she whispered back. "What's with the blindfold?"

"The light was bothering him," he answered shortly, his gaze still uncomfortably intense.

"Is he okay?" she asked.

J.D shrugged.

Stifling a weary sigh, Rain glanced around the room, looking for Alexei and seeing no sign of him.

Besides Matt, still locked away into the corner, her and J.D were alone.

"Where's Alexei?"

J.D scowled, but only shrugged, clearly unwilling to talk about it; Rain didn't bother to hide her exasperated sigh this time.

"What the fuck are you mad about now?" she demanded, raising her voice thoughtlessly—

In the corner, Matt twitched, and their reaction was instantaneous—Rain clamped her mouth shut, angry at herself for her thoughtlessness, and J.D shot to his feet, training his gun carefully on Matt.

He only shifted slightly, resting his head against the wall and raising a tightly clenched fist to his chin.

They didn't wait for anything more to happen; J.D grabbed her arm, dragging her outside; she let him, closing the door softly behind them.

It was quiet in the house now, Michael and Alice's voices having given way to quiet murmurs, and J.D dropped her arm immediately.

"Alexei," he spat the name, "Told me what happened with you two yesterday."

Rain stopped, and stared at him, surprised to see that he was completely serious. "So _what_?"

"So he was bragging about it, that's what," he snapped at her. "He was trying to piss me off, and guess what? It worked."

She glared at J.D, feeling distinctly angry at both him and Alexei now. "So what? You don't trust me?"

"I don't trust _him_," he corrected her, "And neither should you. You don't even know anything about him—"

"You don't trust _me_," she spat at him, "To make my own judgments."

"I don't—" J.D started, and then seemed to cut himself off, staring at the floor as he finished vehemently, "I just don't want the same thing to happen to you."

He was obviously referring Olivia, and despite knowing he was only trying to look out for her, the reference brought a wave of anger crashing over her logical explanations. "It's my decision, J.D, not yours. I let you fuck everything up with Olivia, and you need to let me do the same."

"Right," he scoffed in response. "Because you stayed _out_ of my relationship with Olivia."

"Why the fuck do you have to be so difficult?" she nearly shouted at him. "Just because _you_ fucked up with Olivia—"

J.D looked apoplectic with rage, but was silent, glaring at her, and finally she exploded. "_What_?"

"How's Matt doing?" someone asked mildly behind her, and Rain spun to see Alice standing behind her, a wholly tired expression on her pale face.

Rain felt the guilt washing over her in waves again as she replied, "I don't know. He seemed okay."

Alice turned to look at J.D, who only shrugged, looking mutinous, and Rain felt a hot flash of anger go through her at his selfishness—she didn't care what he thought about Matt, he didn't have to brush Alice off like that.

"He's better than he was," she added in a belated comment meant for reassurance, and Alice smiled slightly at her.

"He will be," she said simply. "Can you two take this argument elsewhere?"

The calm, even tone was totally juxtaposed against her tearstained cheeks and red rimmed eyes, and the bright hope in her blue eyes was almost eerie to behold under the circumstances.

"Yeah," J.D spoke up finally, looking guilty. "Sorry."

Rain scowled at him. He scowled back at her.

Alice ignored them both and opened the door, sliding inside gracefully and closing it behind her; they could both hear the distinct sound of the lock sliding closed.

"You could have said something when she asked about Matt," she hissed immediately. "You were only already with him for half a fucking hour."

He continued to glare at her, but with a different sort of intensity, and asked, "You want to know what I think, Rain?"

"Yes," she spat at him. "So did Alice."

"I think Matt is beyond help," J.D said bluntly. "I think Michael thinks the same thing, and I think you think so too—you're just too afraid to admit it."

The accusation left Rain blindsided by the undeniable accuracies of it, and she finally said, her voice horribly tiny to her own ears, "I'm not _scared._"

"You're not stupid," he said sharply. "And you're not blinded by love, like Alice. So why else would you refuse to choose a side?"

"I'm not—" she began, and he cut her off.

"And as far as Demitrov is concerned, I don't fucking care what you do with him. I think you're wrong, and I think you're going to get hurt, and I think you're going to bring the group down with you."

"I don't—"

"But you don't want to listen to me," J.D finished, his gaze intense as he stared at her. "So if you don't want me to talk about it, than keep it the fuck away from me. I don't want to hear about it from you, and I sure as hell don't want to sit and listen to Demitrov talk about you like you're just some stupid whore."

The words stung, despite her best attempt to keep herself detached from them; and she closed her mouth as he turned and walked away, feeling sick.

Sick, and tired, and vulnerable—and angry beyond words.

J.D hated Alexei. But whatever Alexei had said, it had to have been a lot to make J.D react this way to her.

Yelling at Alexei wouldn't fix things between her and J.D.

But it would get her some answers, at least.

xxxxx

All alone again.

People had been here, _they'd_ been here—he knew them somehow, he knew he did, but it hurt his head to try and remember, and after awhile it hurt just to look at them.

But they had been here, and then they had left, and now Matt was alone again.

The darkness that encircled him was warm and comfortably blank—he couldn't remember much, but he could remember black, that same absence of light that had enveloped him for so long.

He couldn't close out their voices, though, and somehow the pitches of them—loud, angry, hurt and frustrated, all at once—brought back so much more than their faces had.

Matt could remember shouting, Matt could remember laugher, screaming and tears, not all of which were his own—

And then out of nowhere an image occurred to him. Carrying the brunette girl in a dark tunnel, the weight in his arms weightless and yet somehow heavy, heavy like he himself had already been.

He couldn't remember her name or what she'd said, but he could remember the low tones of her dialogue, the same forced calm that had been in her voice inside Umbrella, the same forced calm he'd heard now.

And there were other people around him now—the man standing outside with her, tall and angry, tall and smiling; and someone with bright green eyes and a tired face, and another girl, although her face was still blank to him.

And leading the group, another woman, strong and tall, her blond hair shimmering even in the cloudy light; but she was walking away from him, and he couldn't see her face.

The voices outside were faltering even as he strained to remember more; and as the image winked out, he was left wondering if he'd ever been that strong.

It was silent again, and Matt opened his eyes, staring into the blackness.

But the door behind him was opening again, and he could hear it, didn't need to be that _thing_ to hear what was right behind him.

Light footsteps, too soft to be the man's, too deliberate to be the girl's.

And then he heard her voice.

"Matt," she said softly, and she seemed tired. She seemed assured.

She seemed familiar.

"I'm going to turn on a light, okay?"

He didn't nod, didn't shake his head. He didn't even think he was trembling anymore, not really, so wrapped up in that soft, crystal tenor that made every part of him ache to remember.

Sudden light; he flinched, remembering the lights, the bright spotlights that had burst and burned in his eyes—

But this light was warm and soft, and he pushed the white lab coats and screaming syringes from his mind.

The same light footsteps, circling around him and slowing as she knelt in front of him, and he battled between the instinctive desire to pull into himself and the somehow much stronger desire to lean further forward.

She took his hand.

He tensed only briefly, the warm, comforting sensation of her hand in his like being pulled into an embrace, like coming home again—and she was squeezing it gently, making him feel close, safe, protected—but not trapped. Never trapped.

Matt didn't want to be trapped. Not again.

He couldn't remember much about who he had been. Not even who he was now.

But there was a veil, some dark, opaque curtain of darkness that covered every memory he knew, every remaining vestige of thought or detail from those times before. And it wasn't like the hazy, cloudy vision that obscured all his other memories; this one was dark, threatening and vaguely suffocating.

This one was—had always been—trapping him. It still was, even now.

But he was standing, as if he had no will of his own, letting her lead him blindly, and for a moment, he felt safe again.

There was a pause; and then another tug on his hand, and he let himself relax slightly, flopping onto a soft, unfamiliar surface, wanting to giggle at the strange sensation—

_Waking up in the middle of the night, looking next to him—blond curls, long eyelashes, beautiful angels sleeping in the middle of darkness—_

There was a brief moment of silence, of stillness—

And then her hand was caressing his face, the touch soft and gentle, and he let out a soft sigh, barely aware that her other hand had inched around behind his head.

The black silk of the blindfold fell away like a wasted curtain, and he saw her.

That same strength, that same beauty, same hair that glittered even in the dim lamplight; but he could see her face now, and it was so much more, the perfect symmetry of her features, her full mouth and wide-set blue eyes, shining, sparkling, with tears and laughter and trust and promises—

_Those same blue eyes, half closed in a sort of sleepy ecstasy as he'd touched her, taking his pain and sorrow and driving it into that complete trust, the wholeness of the love they'd shared, feeling his problems stripped away as she'd returned those same touches, the heat of her mouth on his like fire and ice and something he'd never known, never imagined could exist before now—_

Those same blue eyes, fixated carefully on him now, mouth curved into a small, almost hesitant smile—

_Alice._

The name burst into his head, along with a whirlwind of emotions, of images and memories so alien to him and yet so painfully familiar, and he fought to say the name, force it out of his mouth.

He realized too late that he was doing it wrong—that it was coming out wrong, in stutters and strange, monosyllabic sounds, and was horrified to realize that, like everything else, he could no longer say her name.

There were real tears in her eyes now, he realized dully. Tears that were starting to fall, and he could feel tears on his own face, but these ones were different—there was no fear, no anger or frustration, only sorrow that cut through him like a knife and threatened to tear him apart.

And then she seized him, driven by thoughtless emotion he knew even now was only known to him, and pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest.

The sensation was terrifying; and yet, there was something familiar, something that seemed repetitive and perfect in the way they fit together, in the way Matt so easily sought out that small crook between her neck and shoulder, kissing it carefully, unsure of what he was doing, knowing only the familiarity of the action.

She whimpered, and if in automatic response he slid his hand lower, felt one of her own hands entangle in his hair as he kissed her more deeply.

This was right, this was good—it was warm, and comfortable, and safe. Umbrella wasn't here; they couldn't hurt him, not anymore. Not as long as she was here with him. Like she'd been before, and like she always would be.

He didn't know how he knew that. He just did.

His hand slipped between them of it's own accord, sliding itself underneath her shirt; she arched towards him, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

All instinct, all emotion, all passion and fire. All _familiarity._

This was who he was. This was who Matthew Addison had been.

_He was still Matthew Addison._

And he loved her. Alice.

He slid his hand higher—

And she tensed, suddenly, horribly, abruptly, and tore away from him, ripping away a part of his soul in the process.

He stared at her, dazed, lost confused—but then Alice smiled at him, and even though something was wrong, there was something bad and sad and angry in her eyes, he smiled back.

He was still Matthew Addison.

Everything was going to be okay.

"We should sleep," Alice whispered, her voice hoarse.

There was something lost in her voice, too—and for a moment he wanted to ask her about it, wanted to know if the dull ache in his chest was something she was experiencing too.

But she was pushing him down gently, pulling the covers over him, tucking them in around his chin in a manner reminiscent in such a different way—bringing up images of a cool brick house, small green spectacles, a smiling apron and red headed girl.

She kissed him on the forehead.

Then the light went out.

She settled in beside him, and he could feel her shivering next to him.

He smiled.

"Alice," he whispered, and the word came out right this time, with every syllable correctly pronounced and every letter where it belonged.

She froze.

He smiled again, and closed his eyes.

Just when he was dropping off to sleep, dozing off for the first time in weeks without the aid of tranquilizers or medicines, he heard something that sounded familiar—not only because it had been one of the only things he'd heard at Umbrella, but because it was something pretty and heart achingly sad that Matthew Addison—that he—had heard, many times before.

It sounded like Alice was crying.

xxxxx

Matt fell asleep within minutes.

Alice stayed awake for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling.

She had never thought it would be like this.

She had known that it would be hard. She had prepared himself to lose Matt, but she had never prepared herself for the possibility of losing herself in the process.

And how could she stay sane, when things had been so right? When Matt had touched her, had kissed her, in exactly the same spots, in exactly the same ways? When he'd smelt the same, clean and familiar, and felt the same in her arms, warm and solid and so comfortably _there_.

For a moment, she'd gotten lost in a memory she was beginning to realize was fading, far too fast for her to do anything about it.

But there had been a new sort of eagerness, unsureness, childishness to Matt—and despite all she tried to tell herself now, all the little lies that had kept her sane in those five minutes, she felt dirty, wrong.

She felt like a seductress, seducing a child too young to possibly know what he was doing or why he was doing it.

He was like a child, and although there had been a certain familiarity, a still existing sexual aspect to his touches, everything else—all of the warmth—had been painfully lacking.

What had started as a kiss had ended up feeling like rape.

Unholy, and dirty.

And beautiful.

Because no matter how hard Alice tried to deny it, no matter how hard she tried to make herself believe she'd simply been unaware of the differences, of those slight, tiny little details that made everything so horribly wrong, she had known from the very beginning that things had changed.

But he was Matt. He was her's, and he was back, and when he'd been touching her in that way—

Pushing him away had been the hardest thing—besides leaving him—that Alice had ever had to do in her life.

She was terrified to imagine how far it would have gone if those lines had blurred completely; if she'd gotten lost, tangled in the web of emotion and passion, too far in to see properly anymore.

It hadn't been easy, but it had been _right_—and even though the look on his face, like she'd shoved a knife through his heart, had been almost unbearably painful to see, she'd taken comfort in that fact, taken comfort in the fact that she still had a _chance._

Alice choked back a sob.

And then he'd said her name.

_"Alice."_

And in the dark room, where shadows became truth and light became the romanticism of opaque blackness, it had been Matt speaking to her—as if, somehow, he'd found himself again, reached far enough inside to bring out that one word.

And then he was gone again, reverting back into the shadow—still himself, but not himself. Not Matt, but not quite a stranger, either.

Some days, Alice would have wished for everything to be resolved. Other days, she would have wished for the strength to slit her wrists, to finish this, to find Matt, wherever he had gone, and stay with him forever.

She didn't know what she wanted anymore, and so she no longer wished for anything.

Her last hope was the anti-virus.

Alice would stay until the last mission. She would stay until they got the anti-virus—or until they failed in their mission, and Matt was once again doomed.

But either way, she was finished.

They were falling apart. She was the center, and she was cracked, fraying, breaking on all the edges in her desperate war against Umbrella and her own losses—and now the team was falling as well, breaking into their own little pieces and spinning away, their edges sharp and jagged.

It had to end.

_Unholy, and dirty, and beautiful._

Alice stared at the ceiling.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally drifted off to sleep.

xxxxx

Panic.

Waking up at what felt like midnight, what felt like the day, what felt like darkness and fear and death.

He saw Alice, lying next to him, curled into herself—tearstains still horribly evident on her pale face—and for the first time in what felt like years felt clear-headed, felt himself again.

But there was something wrong, something was changing, something that was twisting his sorrow into anger, his fear into ruthlessness—

His love into hatred.

And then he was changing, his emotions and thoughts giving way to the empty, blank darkness of Nemesis, leaving everything behind.

Even now, he could still hear Alice screaming, before the covers slipped over his head, the blindfold back over his eyes—

And then he was gone.


	7. Chapter Seven: Damaged

Title: Final Illuminations

Author: Malenkaya

Rating: R for violence and swearing

Summary: RE movie fanfiction. In this sequel to "Fading Away" and "Into the Light", Alice, Michael, Rain and J.D continue in their efforts to defeat Umbrella, finding along the way new allies, new enemies—and new hope for Matthew Addison.

Disclaimer: I'm feeling daring, so I'm not going to post one. Ever again! So ha ha. If, strangely and ironically, I disappear from due to this heinous offence, I will be found under "TMonkey".

Feedback: Please! I live and breathe reviews! Flames, as long as they're explanatory, are fine.

Author's Notes:

And the thank you notes went out! Thanks to fanfiction(dot)nets lovely new review response program. If anyone needs to contact me, my email address is still on my page.

And of course another thank you to: masked-in-your-shadows, Sakura123, DarkPrincessPyro, Sarah, Rain1657, XMaster, and Kim Hughes . I really appreciate it :)

Also, another song shout-out to "Damaged People" by Depeche Mode, which didn't really inspire this chapter, but definitely helped shape it.

Chapter eight will be updated on December 9th.

And lastly…Hah! I wrote this entire chapter on Saturday morning in the span of three hours directly after posting the last. So it was done early—incredibly so—and that was quite nice. I hope you all enjoy it.

Chapter Seven: Damaged

When Alexei came out of the shower at 2:30 am, Rain was sitting on his bed, staring at him.

Dressed only in a soft black towel—because every fucking piece of material associated with him was _black_, apparently—he looked, for a moment, surprised to see her there.

Then the same, carefully guarded expression slipped down over his face and he smiled slightly, a tiny amount of pleasure seeping into his eyes. "Rain. Fancy seeing you here."

Rain didn't bother with any preamble.  
"What did you say to J.D?" she asked bluntly, not bothering to elaborate, knowing he would know _exactly_ what she was referring to.

She was gratified to see his face darken, if only slightly, before he asked, "Why?"

"Because he's mad at _me_," she said slowly, as if speaking to a two year old. "And I want to know why."

Alexei shrugged. "Because he's an idiot?"

His tone was sullen now, a blatant opposite to the blithe, careless tone he had taken on when he'd first seen her here, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Tell me."

Alexei scowled at her as he stooped to pick up his clothes. "Just stay the fuck out of it, Rain."

For a moment she felt like she couldn't breathe, and she stood there, staring at him, hearing a light rain begin to clap against the windowpane.

Then she said, her voice shaking in anger, "_No_."

Alexei looked disgusted, and she hated herself for the pure wave of complete and utter misery that ran through her when she saw him looking at her that way.

Why the hell did she have to _care_ so much?

"I'm a part of this," she told him sharply. "And you and J.D can't just tell me what to do, and lock me away into a fucking housewife role. I won't let you."

"Do you think this is about _you_?" he asked sharply, his expression one of an almost maliciously amused shock.

"What else would it be about?" she snarled at him. "J.D said you said something about what happened yesterday—"

He laughed.

He threw back his head and laughed, like this was all just some fucking _joke_, and she could feel something breaking inside her, could feel nothing but rage seeping through her blood.

"What happened yesterday," he said sharply. "Was a _kiss_. How old are you, twelve? It didn't mean anything."

Rain bit her lip harshly, willing herself not to respond. She was a fucking adult, she wasn't going to upset herself over this stupid cliché of a non-relationship.

She didn't say anything.

But she could feel the single tear, the one, stupid tear she couldn't hold back, as it slid slowly down her cheek.

Alexei looked pained, a crack finally splitting the mask, if only briefly, and his voice was unsteady as he said, "Get out, Rain."

"No," she said simply, ignoring the slight waver in her own voice as she added, "Not until you tell me what you said to J.D."

Alexei stood up and turned to face her, hurling the clothes down beside him. "You want to know what I said to Salinas?" he snapped at her. "Do you _really_ want me to tell you?"

Rain folded her arms over her chest, hardening even as her body began to collapse in on itself. "Yes."

Alexei stared at her, his bright blue eyes burning a hold right through her; and then he shifted his gaze abruptly to the wall over her shoulder and said, a trembling blitheness in his voice, "I told him we fucked. Fairly graphically, too. There were a few demonstrations, a few imitations, but he managed to cut me off before I could draw him out a diagram."

Rain's face burned, even as she asked sharply, "_Why_?"

He shrugged. "It made him angry," he answered shortly. "It made him even angrier when I told him you enjoyed it."

"And you called _me_ twelve?" she asked in sharp disbelief. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He looked back at her at that, and his blue eyes burned into hers as he folded his arms over his chest. "I told you what you wanted to know, so get the fuck out."

"What else did you say?" Rain asked, a forced calm straining her tone.

"I just told you—" Alexei started, and she cut him off.

"That can't be all you said," she said flatly. "I know J.D. You said more than just that."

Alexei looked almost impressed, but only said, "Fine. I told him you didn't trust him."

Another moment passed where Rain felt like she couldn't breathe, and then she whispered, not trusting herself to speak clearly, "You promised you wouldn't tell him that."

He raised his eyebrow. "I absolutely did not," he said simply, looking almost amused, and she stood up too, glaring at him.

"It was a _private_ conversation," she snapped at him. "What the hell was I supposed to think?"

Alexei just stared at her, his expression bored; realizing she wasn't going to get an answer out of him, she spun to stalk out of the room—

And he grabbed her arm, gripping it tightly enough to leave marks in the skin as he yanked her back, his expression losing all measure of control as he snarled, "You want to know why I told J.D these things? Ask him. He's your fucking friend, he should be able to tell you."

Rain ripped her arm out of his grasp. "I'm not a messenger," she said coldly, her voice sharp. "If you have something you want to tell me, than tell me."

He only stared at her, looking for the first time completely out of control; pain etched on his face, ripping him apart into quadrants of anger, of rage, of pain—and of helplessness.

A moment passed.

"Fine," Rain spat. "Don't."

She spun and stomped to the door again; this time, Alexei didn't stop her, and she was both glad and oddly disappointed at the lack of any intercepting effort.

Her hand was on the handle of the door before she stopped and turned, glaring at him.

"One more thing," she said flatly. "I don't care what the fuck you say to me. You can tell all the fucking lies you want, do whatever the hell you want. I don't care."

"But stay away from J.D. Stay away from J.D, and stay away from my team, because if you interfere—if you put anyone here in any danger—I will fucking kill you."

She searched his eyes for some semblance of emotion and found none; the mask had slipped back over his face again, leaving his expression completely hidden.

"You got that?" she said finally, not wanting to leave until she had some sort of confirmation.

Alexei nodded. "Crystal clear," he said stonily.

"Good," she said bitterly, feeling lost at the empty victory.

And she left the room, leaving Alexei behind, that strange, slightly pained expression still lit in his eyes—

Only to run straight into J.D, who, sitting in the kitchen, had obviously heard everything.

Their eyes met instantly, and she stared at him, seeing him battling an instinctive desire to defend her, to walk into there and kick Alexei's ass—and keeping his promise, ignoring her completely.

She looked down at the floor.

"Rain—" he said quietly.

She looked back at him.

And then the sound of Alice screaming broke the unsteady silence.

xxxxx

Rain tore out of the kitchen, J.D following closely behind; a door banged open and he could hear Alexei join in the chase as Alice's screaming ground out to a terrifying halt.

Running up the stairs became the physical equivalent of climbing a mountain; racing through the hallway, a marathon.

Reaching the doorway first, Rain didn't even bother trying the door, pulling back and slamming into it, throwing it off it's hinges instantly—

And freezing, so that J.D, seconds behind her, almost slammed into her, and Alexei into him.

J.D peered over Rain's shoulder, the action fairly easy considering she was about six inches shorter than he was, and could feel Alexei doing the same on his other side.

Alice was splayed out on the ground, eyes closed, a thin film of blood covering her blond curls—

And Matt, or Nemesis, whatever was here now, was nowhere to be seen.

The sound of it's breathing echoed through the room.

"Alice?" Rain whispered.

J.D realized suddenly how stupid they'd been rushing up here so quickly, how vulnerable they'd left themselves. None of them had any ammunition or firepower of any kind.

Not that it would stop the monster. J.D had seen Nemesis in action, and he knew better than to assume the three of them could stop it.

But at least they would haven't been completely fucking helpless.

J.D could hear a harsh panting—

And then Michael appeared behind them, hair up in wild cowlicks all around his head, expression alert despite obviously having just woken up.

"Where is it?" he asked shortly.

J.D shrugged, feeling fairly idiotic as he did so but not knowing what to tell him—

And then a footstep resounded through the room, thudding on the thin carpet as Nemesis stepped forward, just slightly into the light—just enough so that they could see them, so that they could watch as the gentle lamplight spotlighted the mutation.

Blood pulsated through the thin, silvery tubes, it's massive muscles rippling as it smiled grotesquely at them, blood—Alice's blood, no doubt—dripping softly from the metal claws.

Somehow, it seemed far bigger—far more dangerous, far more lethal—than J.D had last seen him.

"_Fuck_," Alexei breathed behind him, his tone almost awed.

"I'll get the tranq," Michael said grimly.

"That's not going to work," J.D whispered.

Michael blinked owlishly at him.

"The rifle, then," he said decisively.

Rain spoke, still staring at the monster. "That's not going to work either."

Then she was jumping back into them, and they were all leaping back as Nemesis came screaming out of the darkness.

"Go!" Michael shouted at them, and they broke, racing out of the room as he slid discreetly into the corner, no doubt wanting to get Alice out before joining in the fairly futile battle.

It was pandemonium, and J.D's mind somehow separated from his body, floating listlessly at the top of the stairs as they threw themselves down them, all three clambering to their feet at the bottom.

"Outside!" Alexei was shouting hysterically, years of working in Umbrella leaving him fairly accustomed to giving orders in the heat of battle. "Everyone outside, we can't contain it!"

They ran for the door, J.D and Rain having no better ideas to offer—not when Nemesis was directly behind them, not when they could feel the floor shaking as they skimmed over it.

Some strange part of J.D noted that, outside, lights were turning on, nosy neighbors appearing in the window to see what all the commotion was about.

Like any normal person, they were obviously expecting a fight; an argument, perhaps, maybe even something as exciting as a break-in or assault happening, right here in their own neighborhood.

What they weren't expecting to see was exactly what they were going to give them—a monster.

They burst out of the front door, J.D barely registering the touch as Alexei shoved first Rain and then himself out the door before racing through it himself, slamming the door behind him in a useless effort to slow the monster down—

And the door burst off his hinges, and suddenly, J.D was back in his own body again, watching as the monster came racing out the door, it's hideous screams mingling with an even more grotesque sound J.D could only assume was laughter.

The air was suddenly filled with screaming, as every single person still out on the street at this time of the morning joined in the chaos—the teens across the street, eyeliner up to their eyebrows and piercings covering their face who scattered, shrieking wildly, into the night; the young mother across the street on her front porch, her baby screaming uncontrollably in her arms as she stared in open mouthed shock—

There was more than fifteen people looking, witnessing this all, and somewhere, a part of J.D realized two entirely connected things: firstly, that Umbrella was going to have a hell of a time covering this up.

Secondly, that there was no fucking way Umbrella wasn't at least halfway here.

The three of them had stopped at the sidewalk, unwilling to lead the monster into the rest of the neighborhood, and J.D shouted, "Umbrella—"

"They're already here," Alexei said grimly, shouting to be heard above the noise, and J.D and Rain stared down the street in shock.

Umbrella hadn't only sent a single team this time.

What was screaming down the street now could only be described as an armada.

They weren't the only ones who noticed—Nemesis looked almost gleeful as the vans screeched to a halt in front of the house, soldiers scrambling out, and J.D wondered if it could remember what had happened inside the corporation yesterday.

"Inside!" Alexei shouted.

And then they were all racing into the house, gunshots echoing around them and slamming into the roof above their heads—they could hear Nemesis screaming, in both fury and pain, and Rain said grimly, "Shock treatment" even as a shout of "The renegades!" came through the chaos.

Umbrella had obviously spotted them.

There was no door to slow them down, and they tore through the yawning doorway, bullets imbedding themselves in the walls around them—J.D clutched his arm in sympathetic pain, feeling it burning as the drugs started to wear off—

They tore up the stairs, and almost slammed into Michael, who was carrying Alice in his arms.

"Umbrella," J.D told him. "They're here—"

"I know," Michael said, his face pale and set. "I saw them pull up."

"They haven't fanned out yet," Alexei said immediately. "They'll think we're trapped, they're on the lower level already—once they secure Matt, they'll be up here in seconds."

J.D was surprised, despite himself, to hear Alexei actually referring to Matt by his name for once. It was a refreshing change from the word "It".

"That leaves the window," Alexei finished, fairly uselessly, his voice hard and face set as Michael's was.

It was a mark of how desperate they were that none of them argued the staggering and obvious negatives of this idea—the fact that Alice was unconscious, or that if Umbrella saw what they were doing, they could sniper them off one by one as they tore through the backyard.

At least there wasn't a fence back there.

"I'm the tallest," J.D volunteered immediately. "I can lower people down."

Alexei stared at him, and again, it was a mark of how serious the situation was that he didn't bother arguing. "Fine. I'll go first, I'll take Rain and Michael, and they can guard while I help you get Alice down."

Michael nodded, looking relieved; whether it was because, for once, he hadn't had to decide anything or if because he hadn't had to break up any arguments, J.D didn't know. "Good."

The downstairs level was filled with the sound of heavy footfalls as more soldiers joined the first group.

"Let's get started, shall we?" Alexei asked edgily, his voice taking on the same blithe casualty it adopted whenever he was under stress.

He moved to the windowsill, and J.D reached out to give him a hand—he stared at him for a moment, his icy blue eyes hard, before he took his hand.

J.D leaned out the window, grasping his hand tightly, feeling like his arm was going to be ripped out of his socket with the weight of him as he lowered him gently, lessening the height Alexei had to fall as much as he could—

And then he let Alexei go, and he crashed to the ground and was up instantly, glaring impatiently at him. "Weapon, J.D."

A wave of embarrassment crashed over him at his own stupidity as he realized he still hadn't bothered to grab any weapons, and he turned to look at the rest of them—

Only to find, to his relief, that Rain and Michael were both already armed, Michael handing him another two revolvers.

J.D shoved one into his pocket and tossed the other one down to Alexei, who caught it, looking annoyed.

"A_ revolver_?" he mouthed up at J.D, and J.D rolled his eyes, not even acknowledging him as he turned to help Rain down, who stepped forward, shoving her own weapon into the waistband of her jeans.

She climbed onto the windowsill and looked back at him, grasping his wrists tightly—he gripped hers in return, and she slid off the windowsill, finally dropping onto the ground and joining Alexei.

Michael was next, and he placed Alice carefully against the wall, propping her head up against it before turning to face J.D.

It didn't escape either of him that his hands were covered in Alice's blood, blood that transferred onto J.D's as he lowered him down as well.

He almost had a heart attack when he was lowering Alice down, dangling her as far and as gently as was humanly possible as Alexei reached up to catch her, and the first bang came on the door.

Alexei caught Alice, and pulled her carefully out the way.

J.D stifled a hysterical laugh—_Umbrella knocks_?—

And then threw himself out the window, unwilling to risk taking the extra time to do it carefully.

He landed on his shoulder, and gripped it tightly, muffling a shout of pain that threatened to explode out of his throat—Rain grabbed his other hand, pulling him up both gently and ruthlessly—

And then they were gone, running into the night, leaving the sounds of chaos and screaming, the bright flashing lights of ambulances and police cards, far behind them.

xxxxx

That had been three hours ago.

Now they were back where they'd started, in a dirty, rundown apartment Umbrella had already searched and given up on, and Michael had a decision to make.

Alice, thank God, had been fine. She'd woken up an hour later in the safe house, inquired dully as to where Matt was, and had promptly passed out.

Unfortunately, when she'd woken up again in half an hour, she'd been slightly more coherent.

Coherent enough to ask about the one thing Michael had desperately been avoiding discussing.

The anti-virus.

Her blue eyes had bore holes in him, her blue eyes with depths speaking of loss, of misery, of guilt and regret, and still, horribly, hope.

She had been calm, strangely so—the desperation, the unchanging naiveté regarding Matt had disappeared, leaving only a calm, steady assurance that was somehow so much more convincing.

Alice wouldn't say what had happened in the bedroom. She'd shut down almost completely as soon as he'd brought it up, only saying quietly that it wasn't over yet.

_"There's still _hope_, Michael," she'd whispered softly, the quiet confidence surrounding her like the light of a halo, making her appear soft and angelic._

_"How can you _know_ that, Alice?" Michael had asked her, already despairing, already anticipating the same thoughtless desperation that had led her arguments eight hours earlier. _

_But Alice had turned to him, smiling gently, and said, "He remembers, Michael."_

_"It's not over. Not yet."_

And now he was here, standing, poised, in front of Alexei's door, unsure.

Going inside meant betraying Alice, betraying the entire group; furthering this mess of lies and deception and false hopes.

Staying outside, though, meant he risked losing Alice. Which in turn meant he risked losing all of them.

He felt sick as he knocked softly.

There was no answer—Alexei never just called somebody in—but rather the door opened, and Alexei was there, a towel wrapped around his waist.

Michael narrowed his eyes at him. "You're taking a shower right now?"

Alexei stared at him. "Why wouldn't I?" he asked evenly. "It's what I was doing three hours ago, before this whole mess started and I was forced to throw on some of yours or J.D's almost assuredly dirty clothing, thus rendering that shower useless."

Michael blinked. "What?" he asked, and then cut himself off, not wanting to distract himself, not now, when so much was at stake. "Never mind. Look, can I come in?"

One blond eyebrow disappeared into Alexei's forehead, but he stepped back, leaving the door wide open.

Michael stepped through, and Alexei closed the door and sat down on the couch.

Despite Alexei's best attempts to give the living room—his room, for now—some small degree of privacy, the other end of it still led into the kitchen, making it a fairly sad attempt.

Not that one, looking at Alexei, who sprawled out on the couch as he was king of the world and said, "Talk", would have realized it.

Michael stared at him, unsure of where to proceed—then, as Alexei began to look distinctly annoyed, said simply, "I need your help."

Alexei straightened up at this; a tinge of emotion finally crept into his voice as he asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," Michael was quick to reassure him. "It's just—Alice."

Narrowed eyes, and Alexei commented, "What about Alice?"

"I don't think she's going to stay," Michael said bluntly. "Not after what happened last night. Not if she doesn't get the anti-virus."

Alexei stared at him. "Michael"—and some part of Michael realized, dimly, that somewhere along the way, they'd all fallen into a pattern of calling each other by name.

Living in a cage, consistently bombarded by the same enemy, could do that to people.

"The anti-virus doesn't _exist_," Alexei told him flatly.

"I know," Michael said, and his ears were ringing, his voice oddly detached from his body as he said, "I need you to tell her it does."

A full minute passed. In that minute, Alexei just stared at Michael, his blue eyes cutting through him like knives and somehow making Michael feel less than human, less than a cockroach, even though he knew, _knew_, that this had to be done.

They couldn't lose Alice.

"No," Alexei said flatly, and his voice was shaking with barely concealed rage. "No, Cahill, I don't think so."

Michael hastened to explain. "Alexei, we can't lose Alice. If we don't tell her Matt can still be cured—"

"Lie to her, you mean," Alexei cut him off curtly.

Michael swallowed. "Yes. Lie to her. If we don't, Alice leaves. If that happens, we're screwed, she's screwed, your screwed—if we don't take down Umbrella, here and now, we'll be running from them our entire lives."

Alexei stared at him, his cold eyes unreadable; and then he stood, and gestured towards the door. "Get out, Cahill."

"Demitrov," Michael said, anger and guilt blending together into his voice. "You don't understand—"

"What I _understand,_" Alexei spat at him, his voice full of disgust, "Is that you have no fucking respect for Alice or anyone else in your group."

Michael felt his face burn; but there was no response acceptable for the comment, and he lowered his head, letting Alexei say the rest, wanting him to.

He deserved it.

"Rain might be selfish and reckless," Alexei said darkly, "J.D is a selfish idiot, and even Alice doesn't think with her fucking head anymore."

He deserved all of it, because it was all correct—this was wrong, horribly wrong.

It was also necessary, and somebody had to do it.

"But at least they're bloody honest about it," Alexei finished sharply. "But you? You're nothing."

"You're not a saint," Michael said, angry despite himself. "You can't stand here, and say these things about me and my team."

Alexei smiled chillingly. "I never said I was," he pointed out.

Michael nodded. "Fine," he said sharply. "I trust you won't say anything about this to Alice?"

Part of him knew he didn't have to bother asking—Alexei was motivated entirely by self-interest, and no matter how disgusted he was by Michael's actions, he wouldn't interfere.

"Of course," Alexei answered, looking bored. "Now leave, Cahill."

Michael gave a short nod and turned to do so, crossing over the floor.

He was at the door, his hand on the knob, when Alexei spoke again.

"And Cahill?"

He turned to look at him, and Alexei said, a slightly menacing tone to his voice, "You're not a fucking saint either. You're not doing this to save your group, you're doing this for your own goddamn reasons."

He smiled, then, obviously satisfied by Michael's stunned reaction, and added, "Remember that."

Without bothering to respond, Michael turned the knob and escaped from the room.

xxxxx

Rain Ocampo was scared.

Everything was falling apart around her—_everyone_ was falling apart around her—and if there was anything she hated, it was losing her control over everything around her.

None of them were the same anymore, and none of them were ever going to be the same again.

She was finally starting to realize that.

A knock resounded on the door, and she stared at it tiredly—at the moment, there was absolutely nobody she wanted to speak to.

Seeing Alice would only reinforce that sense of futility, as seeing her own mother dead on the floor had made her realize that there was not going to be a happy ending for Rain Ocampo. Seeing Michael meant discussion, because Michael, while having the best of intentions, was entirely too preoccupied with talking things out.

Of course, that was assuming Michael even bothered checking up on them in Alice's absence.

The last few months, taking on the role of leadership, had taken their toll on Michael, just as it continued to take it's toll on Alice.

Seeing Alexei was something she didn't even want to think about—Rain hadn't had fucking time to think about anything regarding Alexei or what he had said, and now was the last time she wanted to dredge all that shit up.

So despite their earlier fight, she was glad that it was J.D who pushed the door open when he received no early response.

He looked exhausted; there was no more anger on his face, and he said simply, "Hey."

A part of her was stunned to hear her respond, with no particular anger, "Hey."

Somehow, their argument seemed so much less important now that things had fallen apart so badly; now that Matt was gone again.

J.D didn't ask before climbing onto the bed, crawling carefully across to where she was sitting, leaning against the wall.

He sat next to her; and like some automatic response put her arm around her, and she let her head rest on his shoulder, let herself be quiet, for once.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, and she felt comforted by the reverberations that ran through his chest at the words.

"Are you?" she asked simply, pointedly, and he shrugged.

There were no easy answers.

She fidgeted, uncomfortable, and finally asked, "What did you say to Alexei?"

"I told him you didn't trust him."

She couldn't help but laugh at that, and he looked at her, surprised. "What?"

"You two are exactly the fucking same," she told him. "It's fucking exasperating."

"I'm sorry about what I said before," he said abruptly.

She nodded. "We didn't sleep together, you know," she said shortly. "You should have known that."

"I did," he admitted, and his arm tightened around her. "Even before—"

He fell silent, and she rolled her eyes. "I know you eavesdropped. Doesn't matter."

"Kind of hard not to," he pointed out, and she shrugged.

"I know."

"He didn't mean half of what he said anyway," J.D continued. "He was just mad. I shouldn't have blamed everything on him, and I shouldn't have blamed you."

"Yeah," Rain said dully, and J.D looked at her again.

"He's not all bad," he added abruptly. "I don't think he even meant it."

"He meant what he said later, though," she said darkly. "Anyway, why do you care? You hate him."

He shrugged. "If he makes you happy, that's good, isn't it?" he said simply.

She stared at him this time; he looked completely serious. "Thanks," she said, slightly uncertain still about his newfound maturity.

There was a slight silence, which J.D broke again abruptly. "I fucked up with Olivia, and I know you hated her, but I cared about her. And she was a good person."

Rain let out a snort of disbelief, unable to help it, and J.D nudged her slightly. "She was. She was just scared. I know that doesn't make what she did right, but—I loved her."

Rain didn't respond, and he didn't seem to mind, going on: "I loved her, and she seemed nice—and then she almost killed us all, pretty much doomed Matt, and took off. Then comes Alexei, and he doesn't even try to act like a human being, acting like an arrogant—"

He cut himself off, and she grinned at him. "An arrogant what, J.D?"

He gave her a small smile. "Mutant?"

It was almost funny, would have been funny, if the words didn't bring up images of Matt, of Nemesis as he'd stood on the front lawn, screaming and laughing in the purest rendition of malice.

They were quiet for a moment, and then J.D said quietly, "I just didn't want you to get hurt."

Rain nodded, but didn't say anything; she just breathed, feeling him doing the same, knowing there was more to say.

"And I hated Alexei… because you seemed to trust him."

J.D's voice had an unsettling waver as he added, "And when he told me you didn't trust me anymore—I knew he was right."

"I don't—" Rain started, and then she stopped, because she couldn't lie. "I'm sorry."

His arm tightened around her again. "Don't be," he said almost vaguely. "That's not even it. I just realized, then, that we, all of us—we're falling apart. We don't trust each other anymore, we're always fighting, and because of that, our situation is falling apart too."

The comment struck through Rain like a knife, and she realized the truth of it even as she whispered, "I don't want that to happen."

"Me neither," J.D said, his tone now blunt and matter-a-fact. "That's why I'm telling you this. That's why I'm going to start trusting you again, because it doesn't matter what you did or why—you made the decision because you thought it was best, and it doesn't matter whether it was or not."

Rain nodded. "Good," she said vaguely. "And me too."

There was the slightest of silences as they both sat, weary and damaged but finally starting to heal, and then J.D spoke.

"And hey, if things don't work out with Alexei, I'm always willing to kill him for you."

Rain laughed.

xxxxx

It was finished.

Michael had spoken to Alice. He had told her all the nice things she wanted to hear—

_Lie to her—_

And they had talked, and they had decided on a plan for tomorrow.

Alice had seemed better, she had seemed happier and revived, and if it hadn't been for the realization of how completely, utterly shattered she was going to be when she found out the truth, Michael might have been able to tell himself he was doing the right thing.

Somehow, Alexei's words had hit home with him.

This was selfish. He was doing this for the good of the team—but he was part of that team, and it was his own success that he was thinking about, far above everyone else's.

But what was done was done; he'd made the decision, signed the agreement and taken the silver, and betrayed Alice in probably the worst way possible.

It was over.

And for better or for worse, they were going in tomorrow.


	8. Chapter Eight: Tangled Connections

Title: Final Illuminations

Author: Malenkaya

Rating: R for violence and swearing

Summary: RE movie fanfiction. In this sequel to "Fading Away" and "Into the Light", Alice, Michael, Rain and J.D continue in their efforts to defeat Umbrella, finding along the way new allies, new enemies—and new hope for Matthew Addison.

Chapter Summary: In which Alexei has a bad day, the siege begins, and Alice gets emotional.

Author's Notes:

Happy New Years everyone! Thanks very much to all my reviewers!

My resolution is less crap, which means less author's note, because really, this is getting ridiculous. So all that I will have anymore is thank you notes and important info. Everyone knows I love feedback, so that note's gone; I think disclaimers are pointless as, at this point, I've created my own little RE universe completely separate from the existing one anyway, and that's that. I've added a short, vague little chapter summary, and that's about it.

Here's chapter eight! Thanks for your patience. The beginning has changed only slightly, but I have finished it. Because of hectic circumstances, Chapter nine will be updated Friday, January 13th, or, possibly, Monday, January 16th. I really am sorry about my reliability issues lately.

Chapter Eight: Tangled Connections

Morning dawned, crystal clear and bright and early, and Alexei was up with it, par usual.

The room was still dark, the sun barely inching it's way over the dark horizon. Red light flowed gently in through the window, sweeping through the thin glass and onto the wall beside him, giving the appearance that everything within had been drenched in blood.

In one hand Alexei held a bag—a duffel bag, which wasn't exactly how he planned on traveling, but at the moment, was all he had—and with the other he was stuffing clothing in it as fast as was humanly possible.

He hadn't planned on leaving. He honestly hadn't.

But there was nothing here for him. These people, this group, was doomed to fail. Selfish motivations were only fucking them over, making it impossible to make intelligent decisions.

Not that Alexei's own decisions had ever been intelligent. On the contrary, Alexei's decisions were generally based upon three factors: greed, manipulation, or laziness.

But they had always been made to satisfy no one other than himself, and, in that way, he'd ensured there would be no other factors that would seep through and eventually fuck him over.

And until this team had shown up—Umbrella's hated renegade S.W.A.T. team—that had been his way of life.

But things had changed. All that they cared about was each other, putting one another's safety and comfort and every basic need above their own until they were totally blind to any thoughts of consequence.

It shouldn't have been dangerous to care so much.

But if there was anything Alexei had learnt in his twenty six years, it was that love was nothing but a damn inconvenience.

Which was why he had no idea why the hell he couldn't get Rain Ocampo out of his head.

It wasn't what he'd said to her. He knew he'd been arrogant, he'd knew he'd been an asshole; but then, those two things were simply a part of him, something he was incapable of and unwilling to change.

He'd used those same lines hundreds of times, countless one-night-stand after countless whore that he met at insufferably stuffy Umbrella business meetings, wined and dined and screwed and ran.

The reactions were always the same. Tears; misery, and anger. Sometimes they begged, pleaded pathetically with him; sometimes they slapped him, screamed at him 'till they were red in the face and he would laugh until they fled the room.

Nobody had ever reacted with the same cold fury Rain had, and he had never felt the need to reach out to someone as badly as he'd wanted to reach out to her even as he'd stood there, saying those things to her.

He paused, momentarily, from stuffing a wealth of false I.D's and traveler's cheques into the thin lining of the bag as he heard one of the doors opening.

Rain and J.D's, no doubt; Alice tended to stay in on these mornings, going over details until she felt prepared to give a confident assurance to the rest of them, and Michael had gone out early this morning to do God knew what.

It wasn't very safe; but then, Alexei didn't particularly care about keeping Michael safe. Never had, and wasn't going to, particularly after last night.

The circumstances left only two options, neither of which Alexei particularly wanted to deal with—

And then a slight creaking ran through the room, and Rain stepped into the kitchen, wiping sleep out of her eyes as she stumbled across the floor to the sink.

She dropped the glass in her hands three times before she finally managed to fill it, and, from his vantage point just in front of the couch, Alexei was both entirely unsurprised and entirely amused to realize Rain Ocampo was definitely not a morning person.

Then Rain turned to look out the window, caught eyes with him, and almost dropped the glass again.

He just stared at her, not trusting himself to say anything.

She stared back at him, brown eyes now fully awake and fully unreadable.

Then she turned to stalk back out of the room.

"Rain," he said quietly, the word slipping out before he could stop it.

To his surprise, she did stop; and looked back at him, holding the glass in one hand, looking wary and haughty, and impossibly, strangely vulnerable.

He didn't say anything more, and her eyes slid down to the black bag in his hands. "You're leaving?"

Guilt crashed over him in waves, but his voice was self-assured as he responded. "Yes, I am."

She stared darkly at him over her cup, curling her lip slightly as she said, "Good."

She turned again, and _again_, apparently unable to keep his mouth shut, he called out, "Rain."

Her gaze was distinctly annoyed as she turned back again. "_What_, Alexei?"

He stared at her again, unsure of what to say, and she gave an exasperated sigh and turned back—

"I'm sorry."

The words were out before he could stop them, and he was shocked to realize that they were true—not that he was sorry about what he'd said, but that he'd hurt her by saying it, that he'd hurt her at all.

If part of him had expected forgiveness, that part of him had been wrong, because despite an initial look of surprise, she only said, "Good for you", and turned to leave again.

"Rain, _please_," he ground out, hating the pleading tone in his voice, but hating the idea of tolerating her leaving even more.

She turned again, carefully, lowering her glass slightly—

Then, slamming it down on the countertop, burst out, "What, do you think this changes something, Alexei? Do you think that if you take off and leave everyone here to fight your battles, it makes any fucking difference just because you _apologized_ first?"

"I don't want to leave," he said tightly, letting his shirt fall out of rapidly clenching hands as he advanced towards the kitchen, stopping at just the border, unwilling to get too close, and she cut him off again.

"You don't tell me anything, not a single goddamn thing, and you think I can just trust you enough to forgive you?"

"I tell you things," he protested, slightly hurt. "Sometimes."

She looked torn between laughter and anger, and finally said. "I don't owe you anything, Alexei."

"I don't want to leave," he repeated emphatically, trying to drive the point into her thick skull. "Rain—"

"Then tell me something," she said abruptly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

He stopped.

"What?" he said uncertainly. "Like what?"

"Tell me who you are," she explained. "Your family. Umbrella. Why you're here, and why the hell you won't just leave."

"I can't _do_ that," he said sharply, the whining edge in his heart threatening to overwhelm him.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Because I don't fucking want to!" he shouted, losing all grip on his temper as he added, "Why don't you tell me about your childhood, Rain? All fucking rainbows and sunshine, or do you have skeletons in your closet too?"

He could hear movement in the other rooms now, could see the light flash on underneath Rain and J.D's door.

Rain obviously noticed it too, because she turned to him and said, her voice tightly controlled, "It doesn't have to be about your stupid childhood. I just want to know _something_, Alexei, don't you get that?"

"Look," he said firmly, distinctly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, "I don't want to leave. But unless you're here, unless you're willing to even think about forgiving me, there's nothing here for me anyway."

She stared at him, her eyes dark.

"Then leave."

With that cold comment she turned and left the room, leaving Alexei standing there in the doorway, hands clenched into fists, feeling the shaky adrenaline release of an unfinished battle coursing through his veins.

Red light was flowing in freely through the windows now, bathing the walls in it's warm and somehow oppressive shades, and for a moment Alexei just stood there, letting the color wash into him and drown him.

Finally, he turned; and with both hands, grabbed his bag with both hands and shoved it forcefully underneath the couch.

He wasn't leaving. Not yet.

xxxxx

Everyone kept asking her if she was okay.

Everyone wanted to know that she was still human; that she had stopped trembling, that her forehead had stopped bleeding, that she was still alive and breathing. That she was still sane, and wasn't about to fall into depression or commit suicide.

What they didn't seem to understand was that nothing was okay. That the world had been turned upside down, twisted reason into chaos, and nothing would ever be the same again.

Matt wasn't okay. He had been shaky, and had teetered on the edge all night, and now especially she could see that. Could glimpse, with crystal clear clarity, all of the pain and suffering that had filled him that night.

She also remembered that, for the first time in what had to be months, he hadn't been afraid. He had clung to her, he had suffered, but his hands had been strong, gentle; and even shivering, pathetic and small, he had gained back some degree of presence; that strength, that all-encompassing love that made Matt who he was.

And he had remembered her.

She could still remember the sound of her name on his lips, so like she had heard it before so many times, and yet so different; the loving familiarity of the word replaced with a gnawing sense of desperation, as if somehow Matt had known it had been locked away from him, and now was the only chance he'd have to unlock the door before the key was thrown away forever.

Good or bad memories, she was away from that bedroom now, and she was glad for it; not because the memories would destroy her, but because they would pull her back in. Because they would lock her own doors, keep her trapped inside a world inverted where Umbrella didn't exist, her team didn't exist, and it was just her and Matt again.

The way it should have been.

Sitting on her bed, surrounded by various papers and thoughts and plans, amid the chaos was a sort of calm certainty.

She would find the anti-virus. Michael had told her it existed, had given her it's exact location; and together, they were both supposed to take it now, and return to destroy the corporation tomorrow.

Stopped briefly with Matt's arrival, her sickness had flared up full force as soon as he'd disappeared; and while her team had chalked it up to stress, she knew that given time, they would start asking questions—they always did.

Unbeknownst to Michael, unbeknownst to any of her team, Alice had no intentions of waiting for anybody.

This was her one single chance, to wipe out everything and gain everything back at singularly the same time, and she was unwilling to leave any options up in the air.

But she hadn't eaten since that night, and was empty now; the dizziness and unchecked nausea washed over her in waves, but at least she wasn't completely incapable of fighting today.

She would need to be at her full strength for what needed to be done today. To go through what she had to do.

It wasn't a brilliant plan, and it was both nerve-wracking and oddly exhilarating to be doing this alone this time, with no outside help and no sturdy plan within to work.

It was chaos.

But Alice loved Matt—it went without saying, just as she loved every member of her team and would do anything in her power to save them.

And in that chaos, that strong, unshattering belief weaved it's way through all it encountered, leaving only a steady, strong path to follow.

It was like it had been, and probably always would be—dark, and black, and chaotic and dangerous.

And yet, in the darkness, she could still see light.

xxxxx

J.D Salinas had endured a lot of awkward silences in his twenty five years.

Strangely enough, most of them had been sat through with Rain Ocampo at his side: boring team meetings, waiting silently for the boss to give them shit after probably every third mission following a "necessary improvisation" in mission tactics.

And then of course there'd been the one night stands, who'd marched up to him and demanded to know if he was "_seeing_" Rain Ocampo now.

This time was remarkably the same in that Rain was sitting directly on his left, stiff and moody looking.

The only difference was that on his left sat Alexei, who looked similarly cold and moody.

And utter silence stretched over the scene.

"Well then," he finally said, smiling broadly. "How are you two children today?"

Alexei looked vaguely disgusted, not even bothering to acknowledge the comment, while Rain turned and scowled at him.

He grinned, knowing that he was pissing her off, and not really caring.

This was pre-battle, all of this. Generally, in his own pre-battle, he was bantering with Rain, and, in later circumstances, scowling across at Alexei.

But things had changed; although he by no means liked Alexei, J.D had found trusting him less impossible once he'd realized at least one common trait the two of them shared: that they both loved a woman who couldn't even bring herself to fully trust them in return.

It was a different kind of love, of course. And while Rain had never fully trusted Alexei, she had, at some point, trusted J.D.

Which made it even more difficult, because he could understand _why_ she couldn't trust him anymore—he'd taken a huge chance leaving with Olivia, and some part of him had known what Rain's consequences would be to that.

He'd thought he could deal with that.

But then he'd gotten desperate—reckless, Alice had called it, and stupid, Rain's own word for it—and so instead of making Rain trust him, he'd only pushed her further away.

Whereas Alexei knew the secret to making Rain trust him, and wouldn't even try.

The walls were paper thin in this place, and one of these days, all three of them were going to learn not to shout during their arguments.

There was a creak; and Alice entered the room, looking tired but calm; steady, and assured. She took in the scene immediately—the moody expressions on Rain and Alexei's faces, the desperate grin on J.D's as he grasped and clung onto some source, any source of life—blinked, and seemed to decide not to say anything.

"We need to talk about today," she said softly, holding up the papers in her hand to demonstrate. "And I—"

She paused, frowned. "Where's Michael?"

The room went silent, and J.D was surprised—and slightly guilty—to realize he had no fucking clue.

"Walking," Alexei finally said, looking like he didn't want to be the one having to say it.

Which was actually fairly reasonable, because immediately everyone turned to stare at him.

"What?" Rain bit out. "_Why_?"

Alexei shrugged at her and she turned away, the most civil exchange the two had shared in hours.

Alice folded her arms over her chest, looking exhausted, and asked sharply, "Where?"

Another shrug from Alexei, and Alice glanced at her watch.

"It's 6:17," she said distractedly, glancing up to gaze out the window. "He should be here by now."

Alexei stretched languidly, and commented, "Perhaps we should organize a search party."

Rain and J.D both scowled at him, but Alice didn't even seem to notice as she crossed the room, pulling the curtains back slightly to peer through the darkened morning—

And with the slam of a door and quiet footsteps, Michael came wandering into the room, looking sick and exhausted.

Alice dropped the curtains instantly, letting them snap back into place as she turned to look at him.

For his part, he just stared back, and as J.D stared at him, he was surprised to realize how tired Michael looked.

It had been months since Michael had joined their team, and already, his innocence was gone. Already, J.D thought of him as one of them—none of them were innocent anymore.

Alice seemed to be thinking the same thing—the annoyance on her face was quickly tainted with that same, slightly pained look of worry she got whenever Matt had seemed to be getting worse, or Kaplan's infection had deepened, or Rain or himself had taken off and disappeared for hours.

A slight moment passed; and then Alice looked away, obviously deciding not to say anything.

Clearing his throat slightly, Michael slid past her to take a seat on the armchair across from the couch the other three were seated on; Alice took a quick look, than began.

"I need you in my room," she said simply. "There's something we missed."

**xxxxx**

Todd Hamilton liked working for Umbrella.

It wasn't a very popular opinion. Not very many people enjoyed working, and even fewer enjoyed working for Umbrella.

If Todd had worked with the experimentation units—or, considering yesterday's rebel infiltration, the security forces—things would have been different.

But here, monitoring the security cameras, life was easy. Occasionally there was a break in—but even then, all he needed to do was press a button, call the guys from security down, and his work was done.

He received and transferred guests sometimes too, but never important ones; so while most other desk officers sat around cinched up in ties and button downs, Todd was dressed in jeans and yesterday's _Simpsons _sweater, busy playing pinball on his computer screen.

He hadn't gone home last night. If there was another good thing about work, it gave him someplace other than home, which lately had become more of a prison than his own damn home. With a baby screaming and a special needs kid around all the time—it got stressful, and lately, even sweet Tricia had turned into a nagging bitch every time he walked through that front door.

The security monitors beeped, and he paused the game, wheeling over to check out the video monitor.

A tall, finely dressed blond man stood there, looking haughty and impatient, and Todd scowled. He looked important enough to be one of Crawford's guests—sometimes there were screw ups in the system, and, not for the first time, Todd wished Crawford would start ringing in his own damn guests himself.

"Umbrella security," he commented flatly. "State your name and purpose."

"Archangelo," came the bored reply, and Todd almost fell off his chair. "William Archangelo."

Wasn't there supposed to be some sort of procedure for this? An alert?

"Does Crawford know you're here?" he blurted stupidly, all suave words and follow-up commentary forgotten.

Archangelo scowled. "Is this the godforsaken staff Vinny is hiring these days?" he demanded, to no one in particular. "Un-fucking-believable. Open the goddamn door or I'll—"

Todd opened the door.

Seconds later he was hurrying down the hall, battling a hopeless battle to make himself at least somewhat presentable, tugging on his beaten sweater with one hand and trying anxiously to flatten his messy hair with the other.

By the time he reached the doorway, Archangelo was striding in, looking both expectant and bored.

He had entered through the back doors, where the lab shipments were generally dropped off and the fatalities—"accidents", the higher ranking members usually called them—were taken out.

Todd didn't get a chance to wonder why. Archangelo shrugged out of his black coat, leaving him dressed in matching pants and a light blue shirt, all trimmed in gold, and threw it at him. He caught it automatically, and Archangelo turned and strode down the hallway, leaving Todd to follow at his heels, distinctly annoyed despite himself—what was he, the damn valet?

"I expect you'd like to speak to Mr. Crawford, sir?" he enquired, keeping the tone polite.

Archangelo halted, and Todd followed in unison as the man turned to look at him, his eyes dark behind reflective sunglasses.

"No," he said shortly, glancing at the concrete surrounding them—upstairs they got marble and glass, but all Todd's good old work place had was sidewalk plaster—with some interest. "No, the security control room, Weatherby."

He spoke with a slight Russian accent, and Todd nodded, fighting a scowl at the address. "Right this way, sir."

He set off down the hallway at a brisk pace, Archangelo following closely behind him.

By the time they reached the room, Todd, despite himself, had grown increasingly more nervous. He wasn't easily frightened, he'd faced up to worse working here—but the whole way here Archangelo had been completely, unnervingly silent.

It was with great relief, then, that he opened the door and ushered Archangelo inside, asking nervously, "What do you need, sir?"

"I have been told," Archangelo said simply, "That you have the ability to bypass all outside security systems—including video monitors—and keep them immobile for a period of twenty minutes. Is that true?"

Todd nodded, feeling a flush of pride despite himself that someone had been talking about him to William Archangelo. "Of course, sir."

Archangelo grinned at him, a smile that was blinding white and equal parts pleasure and malice. "Then do it."

He did.

The telecommunications system went haywire as what felt like every single goddamn employee in Umbrella called to enquire what in the hell he was doing. Todd didn't have an answer, and as he reached for the phone, he sure as hell hoped Archangelo had an explanation ready.

"Don't," Archangelo cut in placidly. "Answer that."

_What the fuck was he playing at? _Todd wondered, staring at him. Despite mild amusement at the situation, he looked completely serious and had taken off his sunglasses, somehow intensifying the words with his stare.

"I have to, sir," he argued, and turned back to the headset with some relief. "Todd Hamilton reporting—"

"What the hell are you doing down there, Hamilton?"

His supervisor's voice, and the fear that ran through him at the tone was nothing compared to the cold and utter panic he felt when he felt the butt of a gun pressed against his neck.

"I told you," the man's voice came again, both fully amused and now fully Russian, "Not to answer that."

It's said that in every man's life, he reaches an epiphany; and at that moment, Todd Hamilton reached his.

He hadn't known much about the powerful William Archangelo, but he knew enough to realize these three thins:

Firstly, that Archangelo always, consistently entered through the top entrance reserved especially for him.

Secondly, Archangelo wasn't Russian, nor did he speak it, and third:

William Archangelo had been missing—presumed dead—for the last five months.

He lunged for the microphone. "Sawyer!" he shouted. His supervisor's name. "Sawyer, Umbrella—"

The butt of the gun slamming into his head silenced him, and he crumpled to the floor, Sawyer's unanswered barrage of questions cutting away into silence as "Archangelo" ended the transmission.

Todd could hear him swearing in Russian as he thought belatedly of his wife and kids, of how little he'd seen them in the last three months, before he ended with one English word Todd himself was feeling particularly fond of at the moment.

"Fuck."

A deafening explosion—

And the world went black.

**xxxxx**

"We're in."

Alexei's voice followed the gunshot, and Alice turned to her group, assembled around her. At J.D, leaning casually against the wall of the same Umbrella van they'd hijacked last time, his expression relaxed, but eyes bright, alert, watchful—relaxed, smirking, but prepared and ready, as he always had been.

At Rain, who sat at J.D's feet, her face upturned, expectant—her expression tired, fists clenched. Exhausted.

But that same smirk still played at the corner of her mouth; the same confidence and ready mischievousness was alight in her steady brown eyes as she gazed back at her, a mask of determination, of that same determination that had got them this far.

At Michael, who sat across from here, knight to where Matt had once been king. His bright green eyes were tired, and his ready, cautious smile had grown brittle—he had grown up, grown to be as jaded as the rest of them had already become so long ago—and she felt a pang of guilt for having caused that change in him

But behind the tired glance, intelligence still sparkled; his hands were restless on the video console in front of them, ready and willing to continue. Strong beyond appearance.

They all looked ready, prepared, both loyally adult and heart achingly young, and Alice allowed herself to remember Kaplan—his unending bravery, the heartbreaking concern and worry for his wife and kids that had lasted until the very end—and Matt, always Matt, before turning and addressing the group.

"I would give my life," she stated unerringly. "To keep you all safe."

They looked taken aback, obviously not expecting an emotional speech, and she couldn't blame them. She hadn't been, either.

"It's been years," she said quietly, "Since I've met you, since I've come to fight with you. I've come to know your strengths, weaknesses, all of you—your bravery, unwavering loyalty, intelligence, and spirit. I've rescued, and been rescued, by each of you; and there's no one else I would have wanted on my side but all of you."

She paused, then added even more softly, "There's no one else I want here today but you. All of you."

She took a moment to glance around at her group, gauging their reactions. Both Rain and J.D looked overwhelmed, but open—connected, as they always had been without realizing it.

Michael was pale, and set, looking caring and warm but somehow miserable, as if his heart was breaking in two, and Alice felt a pang of loss go through her at his expression.

She slid back on track. "Normally," she explained, "I would be telling you the plan again, and we would go over it until you all had it memorized."

Rain grinned at that, and Alice sent her back a grin that was half-conciliatory, half-warning as she continued, "But not today."

"I trust you," she elaborated, looking closely at all of them, "To make the right decisions, and to correct the wrong ones. So I'm leaving Michael in charge."

Unlike Rain and J.D, his face bore no surprise; only gratitude and slight suspicion, and she realized he already knew what she intended to do.

"All this time…" she said haltingly. "I couldn't have asked for a better team. I want you to know that."

There was silence; and then Rain commented, grinning slightly, "Wow, Alice, I didn't know you cared."

Alice smiled at her. "Just don't die, Rain," she said dryly, and they all laughed; and in the laughter she felt, somehow, like she was coming back to earth; like this had all come full circle, like they'd reached both the end and, subsequently, the beginning again.

For the first time in months, she felt whole again.

_Ready._

"So that's it?" J.D asked, his gaze both warm and expectant.

_Set._

"_This_ is it," Alice corrected him, and, despite a previously steely resolve, her stomach fluttered nervously as she finished, "_This_ is the end."

_Go._


	9. Chapter Nine: Between Truth and Lies

Title: Final Illuminations

Author: Malenkaya

Rating: R for violence and swearing

Summary: RE movie fanfiction. In this sequel to "Fading Away" and "Into the Light", Alice, Michael, Rain and J.D continue in their efforts to defeat Umbrella, finding along the way new allies, new enemies—and new hope for Matthew Addison.

Chapter Summary: In which there are confrontations, forgiveness, and possible character death.

Author's Notes:

Happy New Years everyone! Thanks very much to all my reviewers, whom I emailed earlier; I really appreciate both your reviews AND your patience :)Thank you.

I've also made a few changes to chapter eight—nothing major, just to fix up a few errors, many of which a few of you cottoned on to already :)

Chapter ten will be updated on Friday, February 10th.

Chapter Nine: Between Truth and Lies

"Loop the black wire in through first. Right. Now the red, but hook it up to the blue instead. Good. Now just—"

"I know how to enable a goddamn bomb, J.D!" Rain exploded, turning to glare at J.D from her vantage point of two feet.

J.D loomed above her, staring down over her shoulder. He grinned cockily. "Do you, Rain?"

She scowled at him. He grinned back at her.

"Yes," she insisted childishly. "I do."

She returned to her work, lifting the green wire next and threading it through to connect it to the black—

Behind her, J.D cleared his throat.

She whipped around. "_What_?"

"If you connect those, you'll set that off in fifty seconds," he said matter-a-factly. "But I'm not saying anything."

"Good," Rain muttered, turning back to the small explosive in front of her. "Keep it that way."

She examined the black wire more closely. Then the red, and the blue, and the green—

And finally threw them down in a heap, climbing to her feet and crossing her arms across her chest.

"You do it then," she demanded, scowling at J.D. "If you're so damn good at it."

"Awww," J.D said in response, grinning and clapping her on the back as he moved across her to take her place on the floor. "Don't worry, Rain, I'm sure you're not the only one who can't enable a simple explosive."

"Yeah, well," she said moodily. "I can shoot better than you."

He turned to grin at her. "Won't do you much good if I blow you up first, will it?"

She grinned back. "Shut up, J.D."

He returned to his work, laughing, and she resisted the urge to kick him.

She let J.D finish the rest of the explosives, standing guard behind him, MP-5 ready and waiting. The security systems would be down for at last ten more minutes, but there was no harm in being prepared.

"So what do you think Alice was on about earlier?" Rain asked finally, leaning against the wall and watching with some interest as J.D set to work on another explosive.

He paused, but only momentarily, and said, "I think that was her poised, cryptic way of saying goodbye."

"You think she's going to leave?" Rain asked, surprised despite herself, and J.D shrugged.

"What else is here for her?" he asked rhetorically. "She fought the good fight. We all did. But once we're done here… what else is there?"

He returned to his work, and Rain stared at his back, feeling oddly empty at the question.

They had spent years fighting, first for Umbrella, and then against it—now that it was over, what else was left?

"One more left," J.D announced, clambering to his feet and turning to look at her. "You okay?"

She looked at him. "Yeah," she said distantly; then, coming back to focus, added, "I'll do the next one."

He raised an eyebrow; she raised hers in response, challenging him, and they traded, her MP-5 for his mess of explosives and tangled wires.

Five minutes time found her sitting in front of a fully enabled explosive, and she smirked at J.D, who'd been watching her like a hawk the entire time. "Done."

"You can't even set off a Molotov cocktail properly," her reminded her teasingly. "What, did you just guess your whole way through that?"

She turned and stood to face him, so they were inches apart. "I learn fast," she informed him acridly, and he laughed.

"Well, it's about time."

They both turned to see Alexei striding towards them, the MP-5 in his hands ruining any wealthy or prestigious image his suit managed to imply.

"I thought you both had gotten lost," he finished languidly. "With the time you took."

"It's been fifteen minutes, Alexei," J.D responded, sounding bored.

Alexei grinned. "Right, of course. Fifteen minutes. Not at all over the eight minute mark."

Rain scowled.

And J.D… grinned. He looked at Alexei and they both _grinned_, conspirational and somehow in sync.

Rain stared.

"Right, then," Alexei said finally, and turned to her. "Shall we go?"

"Me and J.D are going," she reminded him. "You're staying here."

Alexei looked surprised. "You mean, Salinas didn't _tell_ you?" he demanded, scowling at J.D.

Rain scowled at him too. "Tell me _what_, J.D?"

He had the grace to look sheepish. "I'm going to be setting the explosives, so Alexei will be with you in the control room."

"What?" she demanded again. "Why?"

J.D looked completely stumped. "Uh, convenience?" he suggested lamely.

Alexei snorted. "Pathetic, Salinas, pathetic," he muttered, then, more loudly: "But as much as I hate to break this up, we do have a job to do."

"Right," J.D nodded. "See you, Rain. Demitrov."

Him and Alexei exchanged looks again—his one of warning, Alexei's one of slight impatience. Then he looked back at her.

Rain scowled at him. He grinned in response.

They split up.

xxxxx

They split up once they'd reached the control rooms—Alice had hurried down one corridor to meet up with Rain, J.D and Alexei, leaving him to wander another on his own, the MP-5 shaky in his unpracticed hands.

Not that he didn't know how to use it. Rain had interrogated him thoroughly before handing over the weapon.

In some ways, her and Alice were far more alike than either of them probably realized.

Michael knew Alice was going to go looking for Matt—that had never been a question.

All he had to do now was ensure he got there before she did.

This—all of this—pained him. He had always known, had always been able to look beyond blinding appearances and see the gritty reality so many other people were willing to ignore.

But he'd never said anything before. He'd always stayed back, let things play out however they played out, and now, he wasn't just viewing the play anymore.

He was the director—_creating_ the play, blatantly manipulating his actors to suit their—and his own—needs.

It made him feel sick.

But someone had to do it.

He wasn't a saint. Maybe he'd had a chance, once, before this whole mess had started. Before he'd been dragged into a whole new world of open warfare, where day after day he saw death and was forced to kill others to keep him and his friends alive.

But then Matt had fallen, and Alice had been lost—and he'd stepped in, simply because no one else had been willing to.

And almost overnight, he'd lost that—spark, that slight touch of innocence that had still existed somewhere. He'd moved from useless pawn to conspiring bishop, and a part of him hated himself for it.

But this would work. They needed Alice—they had lost too many already, and to lose Alice especially was a loss none of them could hope to recover from.

So he pushed on, and built upon his web of lies because in the end, it was what would win the war for them.

It couldn't save Matt, because Matt was already gone.

But at least they could avenge him.

Spotting the door he was looking for, Michael slid in gratefully, closing it gently behind him.

There was a corpse on the floor—but whoever he had been, he had been shot in the head, and thus wasn't exactly a threat.

Michael wondered, sometimes, what it felt like to be a zombie. If they could remember their lives, their loved ones, their own names—if they were inside somehow, locked away and screaming for help.

On quiet nights, he still dreamt of his little sister. Of her long red curls, mischievous smile turned to blank stare of yawning hunger and death.

The only person he'd ever told was Rain, who'd admitted she still dreamt of their time down in the Hive when J.D died as well.

They all had nightmares, here already and waiting still once this was all over.

Michael flipped on the screens and went to work.

xxxxx

Alexei didn't say a single thing throughout their trek to the surveillance control rooms, which was fine by her.

He was quiet—abnormally so, for him—and walked in front of her, pale blond hair catching in the fluorescent lighting and making it appear almost silver.

It was hard to be pissed off at him when he wasn't even looking at her, which was also fine by Rain. Right now, she was more pissed off at J.D anyway.

She had no idea what was going on between him and Alexei, and she didn't particularly care. She hated secrets. J.D knew that, and some of her anger was abated by the knowledge that J.D would already be expecting a fairly big meltdown when she caught up with him.

When they reached the control room she pulled out her MP-5, readying it in her grip and looking towards Alexei for the first time—

Who smiled back at her, and, looking extraordinarily casual under the circumstances, leaned forward and knocked on the door.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she asked, any anger lost in the worry that Alexei may have, finally and unfortunately, gone completely insane.

His grin was slightly maniacal as he looked back at her, only reinforcing the worry, and replied, "It's polite to knock, Rain."

"Is it polite to die?" she replied bitingly. "Because I don't think Umbrella has the same ideas of courtesy you do, Demitrov."

He actually looked hurt when he looked back to her and asked, "What, it's Demitrov now? What happened to Alexei?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, then looked away.

Alexei swung the door open.

"It's empty, anyway," he said shortly. "First response tactic. They leave one guy manning all the controls, and he's already taken care of."

"That's pretty fucking stupid," Rain observed, and Alexei shrugged at her.

"Arrogant," he corrected her. "That's Umbrella."

He held the door open for her, in an oddly gentlemanly way that she completely ignored as she walked inside and turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest—

And watching, confused, as he shut the door and locked it.

"J.D's meeting us here in a few minutes," she reminded him. "Why are you locking the door?"

Alexei grinned at her again, and she felt a wave of exasperation wash over her—when Alexei grinned at her like that, it was almost impossible not to grin back at him.

Strangely enough, it was probably the one thing he had in common with J.D.

That, and the fact that both acted like stupid little kids when they were angry—although, according to them, she was exactly the same way.

She stared at Alexei, but he only looked back at her, the same grin on his face.

Finally she opened her mouth to speak, and he cut her off almost instantly.

"Ask," he said simply. "I know you want to."

"Ask what?" she snapped. "We have five minutes, Alexei—"

His grin widened, and she repressed the urge to kick him. "Thirty minutes. Rain. And I," he pulled the keys out of his pocket, showing them to her; they flashed silver in the light. "Have the keys."

She stared at him. "What?"

He grinned again, and again she felt the same sensation she'd felt in the hallway, when him and J.D had been exchanging their stupid grins and she'd had no idea what in the hell was going on.

He didn't say anything, so she put out her hand and said, "Give me the keys, Alexei."

He shook his head. "No," he said simply. "They're mine."

She stomped her foot. "Give me the goddamn keys!"

Some part of her realized she was acting like an idiot, but didn't care. Alexei was making her feel like one.

He seemed to realize it, because he finally elaborated. "You said you wanted to know something about me. I'm giving you the chance to ask me anything."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Anything?"

He grinned, slightly; then, looking vaguely mistrustful, said, "Within reason."

"What the hell is going on?" she asked instantly, and he grinned.

"Me and J.D," he said simply, the words strange coming from him, "Set it up. I figured we could use a moment—"

"And J.D agreed to it?" Rain asked disbelievingly.

"Well," Alexei shrugged eloquently. "He took some… convincing."

Rain stared at him. "You _threatened_ him?"

Alexei laughed, she scowled, and he stopped. "No. I tried to bribe him, actually."

She felt frustration welling up in her, and snapped, "Are you going to be serious or not?"

He looked surprised, although not entirely so, and said, "J.D agreed right away. Something you said to him, I guess."

Some part of Rain still dimly remembered that conversation in his room; and none of her remembered saying anything that would convince J.D to agree to such a stupid plan.

But Alexei looked painfully earnest now; his blue eyes slated and serious, and some part of her believed him.

"And we have thirty minutes?" she asked.

"Well," he said, looking at his watch. "Twenty five, now."

"Are you still leaving?" she asked bluntly, and he looked slightly surprised.

She wondered if he'd honestly expected questions all about his childhood.

Alexei looked thoughtful, and responded, "I suppose that depends on you."

She narrowed her eyes slightly, but didn't ask him to elaborate; some part of her didn't want to know.

"Can I ask you a question?" he proposed, looking entirely serious, and she nodded.

"Do you want me to stay?"

_Yes_, was the first answer that came to mind, followed by the more reasonable, _NO._

In reality, she didn't know. Part of her cared about him; and yet she knew nothing about him. Part of her trusted him, could even start to love him—and yet, she still couldn't differentiate actual emotion from physical attraction.

Finally, she said bluntly, "I guess that depends on you."

He smiled at her then.

She couldn't help but smile back.

xxxxx

When Alice walked into the office, she was entirely unsurprised to see Vincent Crawford sitting at his desk, tilted back in his chair and sipping from a glass filled with an amber colored liquid.

She could smell the brandy from all the way across the room, and, likewise, was completely unsurprised to realize it was an expensive brandy as well as strong.

He was obviously tipsy; but he looked at her when she walked into the room, expression insolent, and drawled, "I suppose my guards were no match for you?"

"No," she said coldly, fingering the gun she still held in her left hand. "They really weren't."

Half of them had scattered when they'd seen her walking in, and the other half that had been stupid enough to remain—she'd decimated.

She felt like she was walking on air, like an angel of death—she had never killed human beings, not willingly. She herself had worked for Umbrella before, and knew how helpless most of their workers were here—half of them had no idea what was really going on, and the other half of them were too afraid to get out.

She didn't care anymore. The only thing she cared about was Matt, was the anti-virus—that's what she was here for, and anything, anyone that gone in the way was just a meaningless impediment—things that had to be disposed of, obstacles that had to be destroyed in her war for him.

Maybe, when she found him, when they'd left, she would look at the blood on her hands, at the blood on all their hands, and be sorry.

Until then, all that mattered was Matt.

Crawford, she was surprised to see, looking exhausted; the bitter iron walls of cruelty and malice that had so encased him earlier were crumbling, showing a man now almost resigned, useless.

A man who'd already been defeated and was now only waiting for the killing blow.

"I suppose," he said flatly, "That you're here to kill me."

"No," she said shortly, hoisting the AK-47 higher in her arms. "I'm here for something else."

He looked nervous now, and she was momentarily amused by the look in his eyes, and by the way the sunlight, only now beginning to rise through the windows, found and highlighted that fear. "What, are you going to torture me?" he asked shortly, the alcohol making him more talkative than he probably ever was. "Didn't know you had it in you, Parks."

She thought about prolonging it; about making him believe it. About making him even more frightened than he ever was; making him as terrified as she had been when she'd been watching Matt through the glass, screaming and crying. About laughing at him as he'd laughed at her, about taunting him as he'd taunted her.

But she was here for Matt, and nothing more—and her team was buying her time for a cause three of them didn't even know about, and she was unwilling to risk their lives any further.

"I'm here for the anti-virus," she said flatly, and he stared at her.

And then he laughed.

"Are you drunk, Parks?" he said shortly, ironically, waving the nearing-empty glass at her. "Come to join me in my private hell?"

He was pathetic, drunk as he was, and she was almost mesmerized by the brutal change in attitude.

Almost.

"I don't have time for this bullshit," she said coldly. "You can tell me where the anti-virus is, or you can die. Your choice."

He laughed, long and hard; not the laughter of drunkenness, but the laughter of victory, and she felt a chill go through her; felt, for the first time, the icy ache of misgiving.

"Come to save your boyfriend?" he spat at her. "How unfortunate."

Alice didn't say anything; only relocked her gun, glared at him and waited, feeling the ache spreading through her body, through her blood and into her heart.

Crawford laughed again; and then stopped, abruptly, and drained the rest of his glass.

"The anti-virus?" he repeated, and slammed the glass down.

"_There is no anti-virus_, Alice."

The sound of glass shattering cut through her like the slivers of a mirror.

xxxxx

"I was trying to steal the anti-virus. Tyler Dormeins attempted to stab me in the back—never a brilliant plan, when you're dealing with me—so I shot him in the knee and wrapped the necklace around his neck. I figured something would get to him, and the world would think it was me."

Rain frowned, and he scowled. "Don't lecture me. The guy was a bastard, he was the one who entered in the wrong code that got the rest of the group killed."

She raised an eyebrow. "And what was your plan?" she drawled. "Swearing them all to secrecy?"

He grinned at her. "I was going to leave them down there too," he admitted. "But at least they would have had a fighting chance. Dormeins didn't even give them that."

"So what happened to the anti-virus?" she asked.

At this, he grinned ruefully. "Umbrella was smarter than I gave them credit for and figured out what I'd done. So they blew up my house."

"And?"

He scowled. "The anti-virus was still inside."

She stared at him—and then laughed, despite herself. "Wow. You're not very intelligent, are you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Rain," he said, but without rancor, and she laughed. "And before you ask—that was it. Umbrella was working on creating a new strain of the anti-virus, but that kind of got put to the side, what with you and your group creating havoc everywhere."

She sobered at that, and said, "You're sure?"

He nodded. "Yes," he said, and actually looked apologetic. "There's nothing. Unless you want to keep Umbrella up and running, there's never going to be any such thing as the anti-virus. Not one strong enough to help Nemesis, anyway."

"Matt," she corrected him. "Don't call him that."

He nodded solemnly, and smiled at her. "I thought he was Alice's."

Rain shrugged. "He was all of ours," she said simply, and he could see it in her eyes again; that glimpse of comradeship that seemed, somehow, to come so easily to her, and was envious, despite himself.

"I'm sorry," he said, and meant it.

She nodded, and he said, "Is there anything else?"

She looked thoughtful; and then grinned, slightly, and said, "Yeah. Two more questions. What did you think of Olivia?"

"Whiny little twit," he proposed instantly, and was glad to see her laugh. "Smart, though. Nice, too."

She raised an eyebrow, and he added, "But whiny."

She grinned, and asked, "Are you a natural blonde?"  
He stared at her. "What?"

Rain shrugged. "Olivia said you had dark hair," she said simply.

"Yes," he said promptly. "It's blonde. And no blonde jokes."

She grinned, and he couldn't help but grin slightly too; somewhere, along the way, the tension had faded, giving way to a sort of easy conversation he hadn't dared to hope for.

It wasn't anything, not really. Friendship, maybe. The beginnings of trust, or any sort of relationship.

But it was a start.

He glanced at his watch, then back at her. "Five more minutes," he said, not without some regret. "You have one more question."

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared hard at him, and he braced himself for a question more personal—there was little in his childhood that had been at all traumatic, but he didn't feel like getting into the fine details of his past. Not now; maybe not ever. It wasn't exactly something he was proud of.

In the end, the question was personal, and complex, and yet completely apart from what he had been expecting.

"Are you going to stay?"

He stared at her, and she explained, "I need to know whether I should slap you, walk away, and pretend this never happened, or forgive you."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You wouldn't slap me," he protested, unsure despite himself, and the corners of her mouth quirked upwards.

"You're right," she said simply. "Too wimpy. I'd probably hit you instead. Answer the question."

"Yes," he said instantly. "I am." He stared uncertainly at her, and then added, "If you'll have me."

She smiled at him, slightly cryptically but with warmth, and said, "We'll see."

His watch beeped, and he looked at it regretfully. "Time to go."

Rain nodded, and lifted her gun off the table where she'd left it.

He looked at her, and she let out a sigh of exasperation. "Are we going for another round of Twenty Questions, or can I leave? I'm sick of this room."

"Can I kiss you?" he asked simply. "Or am I still wanted dead in your eyes?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, grinning teasingly. "I don't know, Alexei. Do you want to try? I am holding a weapon."

He grinned at her; and then he crossed the room and kissed her, sliding one hand around her, trying not to invade her space too fully, not yet.

He was relieved when she responded briefly, kissing him with the passion of the release of anger and frustration that comes from forgiveness—

And then shoved him away. "Time to go," she announced blithely, and walked past him. "Open the damn door, Alexei."

"Make me," he said, grinning at her; she turned to glare at him and he tossed her the keys.

She slid them into the keyhole and turned the knob; then turned back to him.

"Thanks," she said simply.

"Thank you," he said, equally simply, and then grinned. "Ocampo, are you blushing?"

She grinned.

"Shut up, Demitrov," she said, and opened the door.

xxxxx

By the time Michael reached Crawford's inner sanctum, he was already too late.

Part of him had known he would be. Part of him, when he'd seen Alice stride into Crawford's office and had thrown down the headphones, running upstairs with all the energy he could muster, had already known it was a useless attempt.

But still, he had to try.

This was, after all, his fault.

When he walked into Crawford's office, he walked not into pandemonium, but into the aftermath of a war zone.

Furniture was toppled, and papers lay everywhere, scattered and covered in dirt; broken glass had scattered itself over the floor, giving the almost eerily beautiful appearance of ice twinkling in the rising sunlight.

Amid the rubble, in what remained of Crawford's inner 'sanctum', was Crawford himself, groaning in pain.

Michael bit his lip; but he had seen worse things in this lifetime of war, and he forced himself into the room, forced himself to wade through the glass and destruction to the epicenter of it all.

Crawford was there; bruised, and covered in blood. He had been shot, not in the head or chest region but in one significantly lower, and if the beating he had obviously been subjected to hadn't already done him in, the bleeding almost certainly would.

When he noticed his presence, he didn't seem alarmed; on the contrary, he laughed and spat, "Your friend has a funny sense of justice."

Michael stared levelly at her. "You killed someone she loved," he said flatly. "That's unforgivable."

Crawford spat blood, and Michael was disgusted despite himself; disgusted with what Alice had done, disgusted by the realization that he was to blame for her actions. "Umbrella's done, and so's Addison. This won't get her anywhere; she's fucking insane."

"She's in love," he corrected her simply, feeling sick at the thought; that love inspired someone not only to happiness, to kindness and emotion, but to acts as brutal as this—murder, mayhem.

"Love," Crawford spat. "Love is weak."

"Where is she?" Michael said flatly, not wanting to continue this any further, not wanting to watch the man, despicable as he was, spit up blood and die.

At this Crawford grinned at him, focusing on him directly for the first time since he'd arrived.

Michael wished he hadn't. His mouth was bloody; teeth had been knocked out, and the sight of his macabre grin made him feel sick.

"I would tell you," he said, still grinning sickly, "But I think you already know. Don't you, Mikey?"

"Know what?" he demanded, but Crawford groaned and closed his eyes, blood pouring forth from his mouth, and Michael knew he wasn't going to get any more information from him.

He stood, looking at the ruble and blood—

And the vibration of the headset at his waist made him jump, even as he pulled it on, hoping uselessly that it was Alice.

"Michael," he said shortly, and Alexei's voice flooded through.

"Rain and J.D are in position," he said simply.

"And Alice?"

"Alice is gone," he said bluntly. "I was hoping she might be with you."

Michael closed his eyes, feeling the beginning of a pounding headache. "She's not."

"Are we going to search—"

"No," Michael cut him off abruptly. "_We're_ not.

"I know where she is."


	10. Chapter Ten: Detonation

Title: Final Illuminations

Author: Malenkaya

Rating: R for violence and swearing

Summary: RE movie fanfiction. In this sequel to "Fading Away" and "Into the Light", Alice, Michael, Rain and J.D continue in their efforts to defeat Umbrella, finding along the way new allies, new enemies—and new hope for Matthew Addison.

Chapter Summary: In which Alice finds Matt, Hades escapes, and poor Michael gets found out.

Author's Notes:

Thanks very much to Sakura123, sarah-vs-psychotic, rain1657, XMaster, and maskedinyourshadow for your reviews—I really appreciate it :)

This is the second last chapter, in which _most_ of your questions are answered. The very final chapter, a denouement of sorts, will be updated on Friday, March 3rd. During which, par-end-of-fanfic author's notes, I will be begging for reviews, so be there! I think it'll be a fun time ;)

My apologies for not having this up last week. To be totally honest, I got the dates mixed up! Which, of course, won't happen again :)

Chapter Ten: Detonation

Nobody knew it, nobody particularly acknowledged it, but when it came to assignments, J.D had to admit he had probably the stupidest, most boring ones to complete.

Alice was the resigned leader; Michael, the resident science nerd; Alexei, the double crossing spy, and Rain, the requisitely reckless idiot.

And J.D? Was some strange combination of all of the above.

So while Alice was commanding, Michael was rewiring and Rain and Alexei were doing what they seemed to do best—either arguing, or shooting stuff—he was here, rechecking the explosives to ensure they were fully prepped for detonation.

Basically, it was a technically unnecessary job Alice had originally given Alexei to ensure him and Rain and J.D would stay out, to some point, of any disasters regarding the current mess of relationships in their group.

So _technically_, it was J.D's own fault he was here.

Also _technically_, he'd done it in the best interests of Rain.

Not, of course, that it meant she'd be grateful. In fact, he had a feeling Rain Ocampo was going to be pretty pissed off once she caught up with him.

J.D grinned. If anyone knew how to fight with Rain it was him; they'd been practicing for five years now.

He bent, checked the last explosive, was slightly disappointed to realize Rain's craftsmanship was still in perfect condition, and straightened up again, entirely unsurprised despite the disappointment.

He had, after all, already checked it. Three times.

He was leaning against the wall, checking his watch—thirty minutes had already gone by and there was no sign of any Umbrella agents, which was strange considering the cameras had been up and running again for the last twenty minutes—when Rain himself interrupted him.

"J.D," she began simply, and he looked up to see her sauntering down the hallway, MP-5 held loosely in her left hand, looking far more relaxed than he'd seen her all day.

"Rain," he replied carefully.

She grinned at him, that angelic, Cheshire-cat grin that on a normal person would have been reassuring, but on Rain was only slightly dangerous. "How's your arm, J.D?"

Confused, he glanced down at his left arm, where the gunshot wound was still healing slowly and entirely painlessly, thanks to the fantastically huge amounts of drugs Michael had pumped into him before he'd left.

"Better," he said suspiciously. "Why?"

"No reason," she said, and still smiling angelically, punched him hard in the right arm.

He shouted, grabbing his arm automatically, and scowled at her. "I take it the talk went well?"

"No thanks to you."

He grinned at her. "You know you'll thank me someday, Rain."

"Thank you, J.D," she said, still grinning, and moved to punch him again.

Knowing Rain as well as he did, J.D was better prepared this time and blocked it—Rain laughed, and he elbowed her slightly.

"What exactly are we doing?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically, and she shrugged.

"Alexei went to get Alice," she said, "And then we're detonating the place."

"Sounds like fun," he said, grinning slightly maniacally at Rain. "Are you sure you're up to it, Rain?"

She laughed, and said, like it was some brilliant inspiration, "Us."

J.D stared at her. "What?" he asked, regarding her suspiciously again.

"You asked me earlier what we're fighting for," she said simply. "Us, J.D. That's what's left, in the end. You and me. Alexei and me. Michael and Alice, if she wants to stay. That's what we're fighting for. "

He stared at her for a moment, felt the corners of his lips lifting slightly—whatever Alexei had said, it had left his best friend in a mood he could only describe as sentimental.

He wasn't sure yet whether he liked the change or not.

In the end, though, it was true—and looking back, he didn't think he'd ever been fighting for justice, or revenge. J.D didn't like being used, but then, he didn't particularly like traipsing underground and risking death when he could be sitting on the couch watching TV or out at target practice instead.

If he'd been fighting for justice, J.D would have been dishonorably discharged from this battle months ago.

He'd stayed because of Rain. He'd stayed because he owed it to Alice and Kaplan, his teammates. He'd stayed here because he'd owed it to Matt, because he hadn't known Matt, and had treated him like the prisoner he was, and still, in the end, Matt had probably saved Rain's life. He'd stayed because of Michael, because he'd joined their group and helped when he should have been trying to escape with every other unfortunate Raccoon citizen; he'd stayed because of Olivia, even though that had fallen apart in the end.

Looking back, he didn't think he'd ever been fighting for himself.

Rain was grinning at him somewhat triumphantly now—she may have been acting somewhat sentimental given her overall personality, but she was still _Rain_, after all.

He grinned at her.

"Wow, Rain. Did you come up with that on your own?"

She rolled her eyes at him but grinned, and tried to hit him again—he blocked her, and they tussled briefly, both laughing, until she pushed him back and said with great finality, a small smile on her lips:

"Shut up, J.D."

He laughed.

**xxxxx**

She was only halfway to the labs when the alarms went off.

This time, the sound was familiar—these weren't intrusion alarms, these were bomb alerts.

J.D and Alexei's handiwork had obviously been discovered.

Her own headset blipped as well as someone in her group paged her—either Michael or Alexei, wanting to know where she was, or J.D or Rain needing to know what to do next.

Without a second thought, she detached the headset from the loop on her waist and dropped it, barely slowing her strides as she headed through the maze of pathways that made up Umbrella headquarters.

Something in her had stilled, had halted—had forced her hand to do things she had never thought she would do. Killing Archangelo; mutilating Crawford, decimating the guards outside his door and the ones she had come across on her way down here.

Something that had forced her to abandon all prerequisites of contact with her team, and the guilt was hardly abated with the knowledge that there would be no guards rushing in to stop them—not this time.

Crawford was dead, and like ants in a Hive, Umbrella's minions had died along with him. Those still inside were hiding, or rushing to escape the empty shell that had once been a booming multinational corporation not so long ago; there was no longer any threat.

Alice had less than thirty minutes left.

Less than thirty minutes to slip through this last mission, less than thirty minutes to pillage and kill all that was in her path—less than thirty minutes to find Matt and rescue him.

Something told her he was already beyond rescue.

But she refused to accept that, because if Matt was beyond rescue—she was too.

She couldn't do this anymore. She loved her team, every single member—what she had said in the van had not been a lie.

But she loved Matt too—and there was no other choice _but _to save him. To plunge recklessly into this web of desperation and death, as he would have done for her.

She had thirty minutes left, and what happened in those thirty minutes would determine the success or failure of her thrown together plan—whether she found Matt again, or lost him forever this time.

Whether she lived or died.

**xxxxx**

Thirty minutes left, and Michael was barely halfway to the labs, all too aware that they were running out of time.

All too aware that Alice, having been here before, had a huge head start and advantage over himself, following along with his hastily drawn directions.

The bomb alerts had gone off no less than five minutes ago, and, throwing all caution to the wind, he'd taken his headset and dumped it, unwilling and unable to allow any distractions.

Rain and J.D would fend for themselves—they always did—and Alexei, doubtlessly, would follow suit.

The person Michael was worried about right now was Alice.

Whether she wanted to believe it or not, she was blind; Crawford had been evidence of that.

He had deserved what Alice had done to him. He had deserved worse, deserved to be tormented, tortured, mutilated for the rest of eternity. Michael knew that.

He also knew that, three months ago, Alice would never have even considered carrying out the actions she had taken with him on another human being.

Love did strange things to people—it had made both Alice and Matt better people together than they had been on their own, and it had probably brought each of them more happiness than either had known in their respective lifetimes, from the beginning to the end.

It also made them desperate, and ruthless, and as Michael followed Alice, he couldn't help but feel like he was no longer chasing Alice Parks, but the shadow of what her love had made her.

**xxxxx**

_"Fuck_," Alexei swore harshly.

J.D and Rain both turned to look at him, guns held loosely at their sides.

Then J.D asked, "What?"

Alexei looked at them both, thumbed the trigger on his headset impatiently again, and said finally, "They're not responding. Both of them."

"Maybe they just looked at the Caller ID," J.D said halfheartedly, but the strained tone Rain had become so familiar with was clear in his voice, and Rain glanced at him.

"Do you think they're okay?" she asked lowly. He shrugged.

"_I_ think," Alexei said shortly, "That what we need to be doing is getting the fuck out of here."

Rain turned, and scowled at him automatically, checking his expression for any signs of indecisiveness, worry, or guilt—any evidence of humanity, basically—and said, her tone acidic, "You can't be serious."

He sighed, for the first time looking even slightly nervous, and part of her was delighted that she could provoke that response in him—that basic evidence of any sign of caring. "Rain, there's eight fucking floors in this building, and they're not responding. If you think you can search every square inch of them in twenty minutes, be my guest."

She felt the guilty pang of the fear that comes with unwanted knowledge striking somewhere inside her, and turned to look at J.D.

His expression was about the exact same as the way she felt, and before she could say anything, he asked, "What do you want to do Rain?"

She blinked. "We can't just_ leave_ them," she argued, her words sounding unreasonable to her own ears.

"They might have already left," J.D said reasonably. "Maybe they couldn't contact us—maybe something went wrong with the headsets, maybe they ran into a situation outside."

"Or maybe they're in trouble," she countered. "Maybe that's why they're not contacting us."

"We can't know that," he said simply. "The only thing staying here will do is get us killed."

She blew out a short breath of air, looked around, and said finally, "I know."

It was almost a relief to hear the words—and even as a part of her forced on in the empty argument, demanding to go back and _make sure_, a far more reasonable part of her realized it was useless.

J.D's expression was stoical, barely shading the same internal battle she knew he was going through right now, but set—they were leaving.

Michael and Alice were on their own.

"What's the fastest way out of here?" she said finally, the words nobody particularly wanted to either hear or say, and Alexei answered immediately.

"Through some of the heavier security labs," he said simply. "We'll have to move fast—the security should be wearing off in about another fifteen minutes."

Rain looked at J.D, and he looked back at her, expression unchanging.

"Let's go," he said, and she nodded.

They went.

**xxxxx**

Something was going on.

Something was going on, and he couldn't remember what to do.

His fingers twitched nervously, and he recalled holding a weapon; his eyes tore through the blank white walls around him, and he remembered a room like this one, and a forest, and a room with shadows and lamplight and safety.

He looked in the mirror across the room, and saw his reflection, as he had seen it in the eyes of another so long ago.

The walls were falling, outside, and he could feel them in his bones. He could feel Nemesis inside him, struggling to get out and join in the havoc. It hurt, and he cried, and wondered if this was the end.

He was in the corner of his room, curled up against the wall; they didn't chain him up, not anymore, not like last time, but he didn't want to leave the room, didn't want to hurt anyone again.

He felt trapped; he felt caged, he felt desperate, and he felt scared.

He wanted Alice.

_Alice._

The name was there, the name was important; but he couldn't remember why, couldn't remember who she was.

Like everything, she was a part of a past that had become distant, sunken far beyond everything in the immediate present.

A low rumbling found it's way through the room, resounding through his skin and bones, and he cried out, curling further into himself even as some part of him realized what it was.

Doors were opening. Doors were opening, and they weren't good ones, they weren't his doors.

He could hear things, things like him, waking up inside those rooms, and the doors were opening, and they were going to get out.

They were going to find him, and Nemesis was going to get out. Was going to take over him again, and maybe—maybe this time, he wouldn't return.

Doors were opening again, and this time they were quiet; and the footsteps that followed were quiet, but quiet was deceiving. Quiet could mean doctors, quiet could mean people that would hurt him, would poke and prod him and bring Nemesis to life again.

The footsteps stopped in front of his room—his room, where he knew there was a window, where he could feel the person staring in at him, and he forced himself to look up at what was there, terrified and feeling the stirrings of Nemesis inside him—

The first color that caught his eyes was a piercing blue—was the pale pink and peach tones of fair skin, blonde hair—

There was an angel there, and the words came to him without any thought, but straight from inside, where Nemesis could not destroy them—

"_Alice_," he whispered. _"Alice."_

But the footsteps were coming closer, the doors were breaking, the walls were falling, and he knew it was too late.

**xxxxx**

They were halfway through a maze of shadowy corridors and windowed walls, housing creatures J.D didn't even want to think about, when Rain whispered, "Look."

All three halted, and Alexei said edgily, "Rain, we need to go."

Rain, true to her form, ignored him, and J.D moved back despite his better interests to take a peek inside the room she was looking in.

The figure inside was shadowy and still; but their last encounter had left his appearance firmly imprinted in his mind, and he said flatly, "Hades."

"Spence," Rain countered absently, and J.D saw for the first time the words imprinted upon the brass plate on the wall.

_Execution Date: November 10th._

Rain turned to him, her gaze clearly reluctant, and said, "We should let him go."

"Ocampo," Alexei said, looking distinctly irate now. "We have five more minutes before the entire security system goes to hell, I really think we should be leaving."

"Demitrov," she drawled impatiently, "Give me a minute."

J.D couldn't help but grin slightly at the expression on his face—the reluctant, exasperated acceptance he figured every man was all too familiar with.

She looked at him, and J.D gazed back at her steadily. "If you want to let him go," he said gently, "Do it."

"He betrayed us," she countered, looking thoughtful, and he shrugged.

"It'll make more trouble for whatever Umbrella henchmen are left here," he pointed out with a brief smile, one that faded when he looked at Spence again, frozen inside his chamber. "Anyway, nobody deserves to die locked in a cage."

He was thinking of Matt, of the cages he was doomed to die inside—the room Umbrella had imprisoned him within for three months, and the shell of Nemesis that surrounded him at all times—and by the look on her face, he could tell Rain was too.

"No," she said distantly, and she hesitated only once, hovering above the keypad next to the brass plate, before pressing down on the button marked for awakening processes.

The gas began to flood out of the chamber immediately, and almost instantly, the monster within began to awaken.

"Great," Alexei said, and although he was smiling patiently, his voice now had a distinctive edge to it. "Are we ready, then?"

Glass shattered, and the sound of it resounded through the room as Hades drew back his fist and punched it through the walls surrounding him, and neither had to answer him; they were already on the move again.

**xxxxx**

The world was ending. The walls were crumbling, the sky was collapsing in on itself, and this was the end.

And she was here. She was with Matt; and although a pane of glass separated them, Alice could not help but feel like she had returned to some sort of eternity. Some sort of glazed over impression of perfection, and as she looked through the window, searching for Matt, she saw him mouth her name—

And for a moment felt whole again. Felt like she was coming home again, into the sunlight, and out of the blazing cold this winter had brought her.

The distinct rumble of footfalls and screams of the monsters Umbrella had so long ago created brought her back to reality within an instant, and she shook her head, frustrated with her inability to focus, to rationalize as she had once been so adept in.

She realized, perhaps for the first time, that she had no idea how to open the doors, and took a step back, forcing the sound of Matt's pained, keening cry of loss out of her mind as they lost sight of one another.

Like all the rooms in the corridor, it was basic; one huge windowed wall that was obviously a two-way mirror, and a single doorway with a slatted window, directly in front of her.

There was a keypad next to the door, and she flipped the top open impatiently, glancing over it for some clue as to which buttons to choose—

_4, 7, 3, 2…_

She strained to remember the code to Archangelo's inner sanctum—it was worth a try, although she highly doubted it would be a match—

She jumped when the reverberating scream echoed it's way down the hallway and winced with the pain of it—she could hear Matt crying out and placed her hand on the glass as an unconscious, helpless attempt at comfort even as she recognized the sound, shutting it out and returning to the keypad, desperate know because she knew what it was—_who_ it was—

_Hades._

Alice remembered the burn marks he had left on Rain's shoulder; the haze of blood she'd watched him inflict them through, hearing him crashing through the windows and screaming even as they'd ran.

She could hear the footsteps clearly now, and knew that there was no longer a question in her mind—Hades was coming _here_, and she abandoned her efforts, digging frantically through her pockets and finally coming up with a pen, which she jammed mercilessly into the card slot.

Sparks flew, and she pressed down, grinding it into the surface—

And through the haze of a dream, she saw Spence, saw Hades, round the corner.

Later, Alice would wonder exactly how long she'd stood there—what exactly had rooted her to the ground in such a way. Whether it had been the strong but assumingly shakable shock she'd received from the doorway; the stress of the past few days; or simple, unadulterated fear at the sight of what had once been her husband slinking around the corner.

She was flying through the glass of the window before she could react, slamming into the wall and hitting the ground.

One hand curved protectively around her stomach, the other bracing herself against the floor, she pushed herself to her knees.

She could hear the crunching of glass as Matt crawled across the floor to her—could hear the sharp cries of pain each time his hands found the tiny shards of glass scattered over the cold linoleum, and looking at his hands, minced and bleeding, felt pain far worse than anything the glass had already inflicted upon her.

He grabbed at her, caught the material of her jacket in one hand; he was crying, and the recitations of her name had become blurred in his fear.

She grabbed his hand, still bracing herself with the other, and looked straight at him.

Blue eyes met her own, and she held his gaze, shaking, shivering, looking for something she didn't know existed—some promise, some hope of any sort of future.

She was looking into the eyes of a child.

She could feel hot tears escape the corners of her eyes, pouring down her cheeks, and a part of her broke—staring at him, staring at the features that had once been so familiar to her, and knowing that Matt, that all he had been, was unreachable to her now.

"_Matt_," she whispered, and her voice caught; he didn't react, and she knew he wouldn't.

He was gone. The child scrabbling at her—wasn't him.

It was that last, prevailing sense of loyalty—of desperate hope that still refused to die—that forced her to catch his hand in hers, that let her grip him hard, as if he was still there, and would hold her, and rescue her—

That last remaining vestige of feeling and now misplaced love that forced her to stand, bone-weary and exhausted, in front of him, and wait for the end.

**xxxxx**

By the time he reached the end of the corridor, gasping and terrified, Michael was sure he was too late.

Hades was already there—Michael had heard it scream, and some part of him had known that it would find Alice.

Umbrella had planted their devices in Hades, created him so he would dispose of any former member of their team.

But some part of Spence was still there; and ironically, befittingly, that element would create in Alice a primary target impossible to extinguish.

Michael could hear a man sobbing, and felt sick to his stomach to realize it had to be Matt.

Michael hadn't seen Matt vulnerable, not ever. When he'd first joined this group, Matt had been almost a parental model—someone to look up to, someone he respected and adored with the idolization a small child might hold.

Matt had never let things fall apart any more than Alice had, and while both Rain, J.D, and Alice had seen Matt break down, it was a sight Michael was still terrified to see.

He braced himself—and finally, took a step forward.

He took in the scene immediately, saw what Hades was looking at so intently—

Alice, standing, looking brave and exalted and undefeatable, all of the things that had made Matt love her so very much and had created in her so many leadership qualities—

And behind her, Nemesis, menacing, powerful, and cruel.

"Alice," Michael whispered, and then, slightly louder: "Alice."

She looked at him.

And, like some signal they had all been waiting for, the eerie tableau gave way to utter pandemonium.

Hades threw himself into the room, screaming it's terrible scream—

And Nemesis screamed in response, the sound so horribly reminiscent of their time in the Hive, even in the safe house, that Michael felt a sudden, crippling sense of loss.

He shook himself off, leaning forward, expecting to have to fight Alice—

But she had slid out from between both, dodging them deftly even as they slammed into walls, screaming and fighting in a last, brutal fight to dominate.

The alarms were screaming now, counting down the final five minutes, and she threw herself out of the window.

Broken glass caught on her arm, her legs, ripping gashes down them; but she hardly seemed to notice, taking off at a blind run down the hallway.

Unsure of what else to do, Michael followed, wondering, uselessly, exactly when he had completely lost all control over this situation.

They had barely cleared the building, leaving the screams and destruction behind them, when it exploded.

It hit hard—imploding from within, it still managed to lift Michael off his feet, and for a moment he was aware only of heat and fire and pain as he went flying, landing hard on the ground amid a series of resultant aftershocks.

He saw Alice on the ground in front of him—saw her push herself up and collapse again, shaking violently.

The others were coming, running through the trees, looking shocked and anxious.

He forced himself to his feet, ignored the ringing still resounding in his ears, and made his way over to Alice.

The world tilted dangerously as he did; he felt like a fishbowl, trapped in a burning dish, and for a moment, with the sun beating down on him, felt like he was burning away; and in doing so, being absolved of his sin, of what he had caused.

Alice was on her knees, bracing herself with her hands, looking desperately ill, and again he felt that unwavering guilt that came with seeing an idol fallen.

And knowing that he, in part, had caused that fall.

"Alice," he said, and reached out for her—

The reaction was violent.

Alice yanked herself out of his grasp, pulling away from him as if he had burned her.

"Don't _touch_ me," she commanded sharply, her voice coming out in a sharp hiss of pain and disgust. "Get away from me."

He flinched.

Some part of him was aware that Rain and J.D and Alexei had reached them by now and stood, staring.

His gaze remained transfixed on Alice.

"Alice," Rain said, her voice worried and unsure. "Are you okay?"

As if awakening from a dream, Alice spared her a glance—and Michael could see every ounce of reassurance, of love that went into the look and left Rain, left all of them slightly mollified before she shut them out. Before she did what she had to do, turned them away and pushed herself to her feet.

Michael was taller than her, had always been taller than her and had always felt, somehow, immeasurably smaller.

When she turned to look at him, he felt like he was three years old again.

"You lied to me," she said coldly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She was breaking away, and all excuses—all _reasons_, all knowledge that he had been doing the right thing faded within moments as he stood looking into her eyes.

The anger he saw there, the fury bordering on hatred, was hard to bear.

The loss of faith, sorrow and complete misery was excruciating.

And the complete and utter lack of recognition that had washed over her features was intolerable.

Without knowing why, he felt, suddenly, like crying; like throwing himself at her feet and begging for her forgiveness, for her to look at him again like he was Michael, and not some monster.

He had done all of the right things, made all of the right choices—he had gotten them out alive, wasn't that what _counted_?

It wasn't, and that was becoming heartbreakingly, painstakingly clear as he looked at the rest of them now too.

Alexei was staring at him as if he were a piece of dirt on his shoe; but that was nothing, not when he looked at Rain and J.D and saw the same look of complete lack of recognition on their faces.

And even through this haze of pain Michael knew that what he had done was right—and that someday, they would realize it too.

But right now, he couldn't help but wish he had stayed quiet; that he had let Alice run, that he had let them fall apart, and that he had buried his head in a hole and hidden himself from the truth.

_"You're not a fucking _saint.

He was only human.

Alice turned away.

"Alice," he said, pained, and reached out to her without meaning to—

And she turned around, made two quick movements towards him—

And hit him, hard, across the face.

She didn't hold back anything, and he went sprawling into the dust.

He closed his eyes; and heard her above him, walking away, and wanted to burrow into the ground and die.

When he opened them again, J.D and Rain were there; they helped him up, looking horribly sympathetic.

His gaze was drawn to Alice—she was halfway across the black strip of concrete now, the sun highlighting her hair, turning it to pure gold. Walking alone, like an angel, barely seeming to touch the ground; her shoulders stiff, head high, striding into infinity.

Watching her, Michael felt, for the first time, a sense of hope.

Alice had been slipping for the past days, weeks, months; she had always been falling, and even though he, all of them, had tried to stop it, part of him realized now that it was simply another part of life, and a part of who Alice was.

Alice had been falling further and further inside her own darkness.

Now, even walking away from them, into the sunlight—maybe she would finally find a degree of the peace she'd always been searching for.


	11. Chapter Eleven: Winter Sun

Title: Final Illuminations

Author: Malenkaya

Rating: R for violence and swearing

Summary: RE movie fanfiction. In this sequel to "Fading Away" and "Into the Light", Alice, Michael, Rain and J.D continue in their efforts to defeat Umbrella, finding along the way new allies, new enemies—and new hope for Matthew Addison.

Chapter Summary: In which the trilogy ends… period.

Author's Notes:

Thanks very much to DarkPrincessPyro99, masked-in-your-shadows, rain1657, sarah-vs-psychotic, XMaster, Kagii, rayine undeadx, Sakura123, and Freakshow1 for your reviews; I really appreciate it.

And so the novel begins!

This _is_ the last chapter, no ifs, and, or buts about it. There will be no other installment; that's the whole point of a trilogy :)

Thanks to Dishwalla, actually, who's music has been a huge inspiration—in particular, "Candleburn" and "Winter Sun", which always started as general RE songs and became Alice orientated instead:) Also to "Damaged People" by Depeche Mode, which always worked for Alexei/Rain and Michael, and "Stay Awake", also by Dishwalla, for Rain/J.D; and so many others I can't even remember now.

This story has gotten to be such a pain to find the time to write; but all the same, I will miss it very much; I put over two years into my life into this story, and I am hugely proud of what I have produced and how far I have come as a writer… and so thankful to you, the readers, who made it worthwhile.

I'd like to say a quick thank you for everyone who's reviewed—I really do appreciate it.

**And as this is the final chapter, please, please review. I myself rarely review until the final chapter, so I completely understand if any readers haven't—but please, for this chapter, make the time to review; I'd really appreciate it. Comment on this chapter, "Final Illuminations", the trilogy as a whole; ask questions, make jokes, do whatever you please, but please review; I really appreciate it.**

Thanks again; I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed the trilogy.

**Chapter Eleven: Winter Sun**

_Will the winter sun keep us warm, in these cold times?  
Will the winter sunlight keep you warm, untorn, untorn and alive?_

"All endings are happy; all endings are tragic. In all stories—in _life_—bad things happen, and so do good things. So in the end, whether triumphant or miserable, all an ending really is is an ending; or perhaps, a new beginning."

There were cars whizzing past in the busy streets below, and students walked across the quad, talking and laughing. He saw a pair of brunettes, a blond boy relentlessly teasing both, and thought of Rain, J.D, and Alexei.

A short distance away he saw a blond woman, hair striking in the late winter sunlight and wondered, not for the first time, where Alice was.

The bell rang.

There was a flurry of activity, and Michael returned back to Earth, turning to face his students, leaving the window and the world behind.

He considered telling them to hand in last night's homework—but students were already racing out the door, obviously hoping to avoid that exact occurrence, and he gave in.

Returning the waves and chipper "Bye, Professor Cahill!"s that were sent his way, Michael waited until the room was empty and the door had been closed before sinking into his chair and covering his face with his hands.

Fighting their war against Umbrella had been difficult enough—but returning to normal life, as they were all finding now, was even harder.

Michael had tried to return to medical school, and hadn't lasted a month. Every experiment he performed made him uncomfortably conscious of the mutations Umbrella had created in much the same way; every time he stitched up a wound he remembered his friends, their faces expressions of pain as he stitched up their bloody injuries.

And every time he set foot inside the lab, the nightmares he'd seen, both inside and outside of the Hive, returned full force.

He'd dropped out after the first two weeks.

Eventually he'd found work as a teacher, working with a small English Literature class in the University of Washington, where he spent his days thinking about events from four months ago and talking about his own left over emotions, thoughts that he related weakly to whatever they were studying at the moment.

Case in point: today's literature, Steinback's "Of Mice and Men".

If one could stretch so far as to picture Alice as Lennie, Michael supposed he'd be George.

Even the best of intentions could only get one so far.

His class, at least, liked him—he was easy on them and tended to 'forget' homework checks—and as far as he was concerned… it passed the time.

Rain and J.D had readjusted far more easily than he had, due hugely to the fact that they had started this together and, now, were ending it together as well. While the war had changed all of them, both had leaned upon each other and as a result, had escaped relatively unscathed.

Alexei was a different card all together—he and J.D had developed a shaky friendship, and when he was with Rain, he seemed happy—but for the first time since Michael had met him he seemed out of place, and at times he thought Alexei was having a harder time adjusting than all of them.

None of them knew where Alice was.

She'd sent Rain a postcard through the governmental S.W.A.T. division that had once funded Umbrella's own services two weeks after their last encounter, a postcard Rain had immediately shared with the rest of them.

The message was blunt, clear, and enviably elegant, as Alice herself always had been, six words on snowy white stationary: _I'm fine. Don't look for me._

And just underneath, in the hesitant script she'd always used while trying to make and important decision, she'd added four more: _I need more time._

Two months had passed with no word before two more postcards came.

The first had been addressed to the group—all it said was: _I'm still okay. I will come back again when I'm ready—take care._

And the second, addressed to Michael, read simply: _I forgive you._

Michael didn't want to think about what Alice was forgiving him for, didn't want to even begin considering whether or not it was something he could forgive _himself_ for.

Like a slate wiped clean, his indiscretions had been kept under a shroud of silence along with everything else that had happened within Umbrella. Someone—Michael suspected it was Alexei—had told Rain and J.D what had happened, and nobody had mentioned it since.

When the four of them got together, they never discussed Umbrella—they discussed their jobs, the weather, Alice. Anything other than what had happened in the past two years.

If they knew about the third postcard, they hadn't asked any questions and Michael hadn't volunteered any answers.

In the end he was just happy for Alice, happy that she had escaped the burden of resentment, of pain and of anger; happy that she had been able, somehow, to forgive him for what he had done.

Happy that, somewhere within herself, she had found some degree of the peace she had always been looking for.

The war had been hard, and the war had been painful—but somehow they'd survived.

In a world gone mad, in a world full of chaos and monsters and death, they'd not only realized the potential for a greater good—but they, together and in each other, had found it.

**xxxxx**

Alexei had always lived a charmed life.

His earliest childhood memory was his fifth birthday party, a grand bash with over five thousand prestigious invites drifting in and out and an equally impressive open bar organized by Vincent Crawford himself. Alexei had never had friends—but the enormous stack of gifts he'd received had more than made up for that, and he remembered his father, Crawford's right hand, beaming with pride as Alexei received the Demitrov signet ring.

If Alexei could remember his days of infancy, he was fairly certain they would involve a baby blue cradle and a gold—not silver, but gold—spoon in his mouth.

When his father had died six years later, killed by Crawford himself, Alexei had hardly noticed; Nicholai Demitrov had rarely seen his son, and at the time, Alexei had been far too busy buying and bossing around his friends.

Even from childhood, he'd been brought up to know that people were only another sort of material wealth—things to be bought, used, and discarded, and he'd adhered to these codes of conduct well.

By the time he'd reached twenty-four, he'd decided, quite abruptly, that the games of wealth and parties had become boring to him, and he desired something far more interesting: power.

And so the plan to steal the anti-virus had been inspired; and for the first time in his life, Alexei Demitrov had experienced failure.

For the first time in his life, Alexei had to live on his own, with no money and a forever scalded family name that was of no use to him anymore; for the first time in his life, he'd met people that he'd actually had to work for to gain approval.

For the first time in his life, he'd actually _wanted_ to gain their approval.

In the end, he didn't change—he didn't want to change. He knew he wasn't perfect; he was arrogant, spoiled, at times cruel and malevolent.

But for the first time in his life, he had a reason to try to be a better person.

Sometimes, when he woke up in the morning and saw Rain lying next to him, he was seized by fear; the same sort of fear that struck him hard when they'd have a screaming fight, and she'd stay overnight at Salinas's just to get away from him.

Sometimes he felt that Rain wanted more from him than he could give; and when she left, he knew a strange sort of terror at the possibility of her never returning.

But she always did. She always did, usually dragging J.D in tow, which was always okay with Alexei—they'd developed a shaky friendship now, one based entirely upon necessity and a mutual enjoyment in teasing Rain and insulting one another—and there was never any apology. Rain would start cooking something, J.D would tease her about not wanting to eat burnt macaroni again, and Alexei would take over, because if there was one thing growing up with three cooks had given him, it was the ability to make excellent pancakes.

Eventually J.D would go home, he and Rain would make a few cutting comments, never really getting at the topic of their idiotic arguments but dancing around it, and eventually fall into bed together, if not entirely confident than at least comfortable in the depths of their tumulous relationship.

_"Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose,"_ he muttered plainly to himself.

Rain stirred next to him; he rolled over and planted a slight kiss on her temple, just below her hairline, and smirked.

Their sleeping habits couldn't have been more different—Rain slept in past twelve when he let her, while he couldn't stand staying in bed past seven.

Right now he was negotiating—it was nearly ten now, and he'd been lying awake for two hours now, bathed in the crystalline, delicate winter sunlight, watching Rain sleep and thinking about the changes that had happened in his life, good and bad, and how they had shaped him.

He'd come to the conclusion— the same quote his father had always commented on, something the man had finally gotten right: the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

In an entirely different way…he was still living a charmed life.

**xxxxx**

Life was all about change.

J.D pondered this very carefully as he leaned against the doorframe of the little apartment Rain and Alexei had rented.

At the beginning of all this, he'd thought nothing could possibly change, not as long as he still had Rain—the two had been together for what felt like years, partners in crime, and as long as they faced Umbrella together, everything would remain the same.

The door opened—but instead of Rain, J.D found himself facing a sleepy looking Demitrov.

"Salinas," he drawled insolently. "How kind of you to grace us with your presence."

Of course, now he also had Alexei.

"Is Rain still asleep?" he demanded. "I said I'd be here by ten."

"Right," Alexei said, a small smile crossing his face. "It seems I forgot to tell her. Oops."

J.D scowled at him. "Oops?"

Alexei grinned, an outright grin, and opened the door. "She's tired, okay? I tried to wake her up, and she kicked me."

J.D laughed. "Well, there's a certain technique to it," he said plainly.

"Obviously," Alexei said, looking, somehow, both amused and entirely bored. "Do you want coffee? Or alcohol, perhaps?"  
"Coffee's good," J.D said absentmindedly, dropping down on the couch and switching on the tv.

The room was cleaner than he remembered it—everything had been tucked away carefully, and the light blue curtains were thrown open, allowing the pale winter sunlight to flood the room with it's early morning light. Alexei's influence, no doubt; Rain was one of the messiest people he knew.

He could hear Alexei puttering around in the kitchen, and grinned despite himself.

Alexei was a pain in the ass, and for some reason, Rain brought out a strangely effeminate side in him—probably because she expected him to cook and clean, since she so obviously hated it.

But he made Rain happy, and in the end, he wasn't _that _bad.

He knew that it made Alexei jealous, sometimes, when Rain came to his place every time the two got in a fight; just like it made him jealous when he came over and both Rain and Alexei got that look in their eyes, the look that made him politely excuse himself and leave the house.

J.D had started dating since the Hive incident, or at least tried to—but like Michael's failed attempts at finishing medical school, he was finding it harder to adjust to the real world than he'd thought it would be. Every girl seemed empty, and hollow, and while that once had been fun, he found, for the first time, that he wanted more.

He'd had Rain—and now he had to share her, and he was okay with that.

J.D had always been particularly adept at adjusting—far more so than Rain, who's idea of an honest attempt was to try once, fail, and demand a return to the original state of things.

He was finding more trouble doing so this time.

Alexei came out of the kitchen, carrying J.D's coffee in one hand and what looked like a Black Russian in the other. Handing the coffee off to J.D, he collapsed next to him on the couch and took a delicate sip of his drink.

J.D stared at him. "It's ten o'clock in the morning, Demitrov," he pointed out.

"Shut up and drink your coffee," Alexei muttered. "_Mother._"

Staring at him, at the stubborn expression on his face, J.D couldn't help but be reminded of Rain.

"I have a question," Alexei stated abruptly, and J.D turned to look at him.

"About what, exactly?" he asked warily. Like Rain, being around Alexei at times gave J.D the uncanny feeling that there was something going on that he knew absolutely nothing about.

"Rain's birthday is coming up," Alexei said, and actually looked nervous as he glanced towards their bedroom door.

J.D waited for him to continue, but he was silent. "So?" he said finally.

Alexei scowled. "So I don't know what to do," he said, his voice barely audible.

J.D stared at him. Then he started to laugh.

Alexei tolerated it for about a minute. Then he raised his drink threateningly and said, "Shut up, Salinas, or you'll be wearing this."

With great effort, J.D did as he requested. "It's a _birthday_, Alexei. What do you mean, you don't know what to do?"

"Rain's not like other girls," he said plainly. "I can't pull the same bullshit I do with everyone else."

"If your asking whether or not you have to show actual emotion, the answer is yes," J.D said simply. "Is it really that hard?"

"No," Alexei said flatly, and, obviously not happy about what he was going to say next, drank about half of his drink in a single sip. "But I want it to be special."

J.D was rescued by having to respond to _that_ comment by the entrance of Rain herself, who came wandering out of her bedroom half asleep, dressed in a tee shirt that came down to her knees. She smiled when she saw him.

"Hi, J.D," she greeted him pleasantly, and shuffled over to kiss Alexei, squishing in between them and curling up, her legs on J.D's lap and head on Alexei's shoulder, and J.D grinned slightly. Rain was like a kitten—cuddly and soft somehow when she just woke up, and energetic with all a kitten's unconsciously cruel playfulness once she'd fully woken up.

"Are you drinking, Alexei?" she asked, looking mildly curious, and Alexei grinned.

"Of course," he said plainly. "You just missed the lecture your overgrown friend gave me for it."

"Go make me one, too," she demanded. "I'm thirsty."

Rain was also demanding when she first woke up. And for the rest of the day, actually, something J.D was all too familiar with.

Alexei looked mildly outraged. "I'm not your servant, Ocampo. Do it yourself."

Rain poked him hard in the side; he elbowed her in return and moved in to tickle her, and she laughed and squirmed, and J.D got the uncomfortably voyeuristic feeling being around Alexei and Rain too long sometimes brought.

Finally, Alexei got up, and Rain said, "And you'd better get me something good for my birthday, too."

Alexei blushed; Rain turned to grin at J.D, and J.D laughed.

He obviously wasn't the only one having problems adjusting to this strange little threesome.

But somehow, Rain, and even Alexei, made it worth trying.

**xxxxx**

Rain hadn't known J.D when he was a kid, but she suspected he'd been the same way he was now—funny, arguementive, and, despite that, entirely too willing to share.

When she had been four, and her mother had dropped her off at the daycare, one of the boys in her class had tried to steal her toy car.

While some of the more well behaved students—including, probably, J.D—would have run to a teacher or found another toy to play with, Rain was entirely less reasonable.

When her mother was called ten minutes later, she was less than shocked to hear Rain had pinned the boy down and hit him over the head with a toy teakettle until he'd given up the toy again.

Rain had always been slightly over-possessive of her things.

In this insanely changing world, _someone_ had to inject some degree of normalcy into things.

When she woke up to the view of winter sunlight streaming in through her uncovered window, a view both breathtaking and painful to behold, she rolled out of bed and padded over to the door, pressing her ear against it.

She could hear Alexei and J.D laughing, and arguing; she pressed her ear more closely to the door, but could hear no other woman's voice.

The first time J.D had brought a girl here, she'd thought it had been Alice; she'd rushed out to see some dumb blond sitting in J.D's lap, and things had gone downhill from there.

J.D hadn't brought a girl over since.

Rain hadn't liked Olivia, but at least she'd been somewhat intelligent. If she had to share J.D, it wasn't going to be with some stupid blond sexpot.

Alexei had asked her yesterday what she wanted for her birthday—and despite being probably about as far away from sentimental as a girl could get, the first thing had popped into her mind had been both simple, and impossible.

She wanted Alice back.

She liked this strange little threesome her, J.D, and Alexei had; she liked it when Michael stopped by, adding a strange degree of intelligence to the mix while they thoroughly corrupted him with alcohol and childish games.

But Alice had always looked out for all of them; and right now, with everything so asunder, Rain couldn't help but feel they should be looking out for her.

Eventually, she'd answered simply, "You", and meant it.

It didn't lessen the fun of teasing him over it, though—Alexei was strangely panicked over the whole birthday thing, and it was nice to have the upper hand for once.

She could hear J.D laughing; heard Alexei questioning, somewhat desperately, about something to do with her birthday.

Hastily, she pushed the door open; she had a feeling that J.D wasn't going to be able to control his laughter, and if he started laughing again, it just might push Alexei over the edge.

"Hi, J.D," she said cheerfully; he grinned at her, and she shuffled over and gave Alexei a quick kiss, then squirmed in between the two, getting comfortable.

If she had to get out of bed, she might as well take advantage of the situation.

"Are you drinking, Alexei?" she demanded.

"Of course," he said plainly, his eyes lighting up. "You just missed the lecture your overgrown friend gave me for it."

She didn't bother pondering the comment. "Go make me one, too," she said promptly. "I'm thirsty."

To her still sleepy amazement, Alexei didn't obey. "I'm not your servant, Ocampo. Do it yourself."

_But I'm tired_, she whined inwardly. Unlike J.D, she figured Alexei wouldn't respond properly to the comment, so she poked him hard in the side.

He responded by elbowing her in return, and tickled her hard in the ribs, his fingers digging into her sides, so she laughed despite herself and squirmed out of his grasp.

Alexei finally got up, and she added, "And you'd better get me something good for my birthday, too."

He went red, and she grinned, and turned to look up at J.D, who laughed as well.

Alexei wandered out of view, and she reached around J.D to take the remote. "What's this bullshit? We watch cartoons in the morning, J.D, not football."

"I like football," he protested halfheartedly.

"My house," she reminded him, "My rules. Suck it up, J.D."

He scowled at her; she laughed, and he rolled his eyes.

They fell into a pleasantly mindless stupor, watching the vivid colors flashing across the screen.

Alexei came back in with two more drinks, setting one in front of her and J.D each. "I figured we should all be drinking," he explained airily, gesturing to his own drink.

Rain scowled at him. "It's ten in the morning."

"You wanted a drink, Rain," he reminded her patiently.

"He's right, you know," came J.D's somewhat absent voice from her right.

"I changed my mind," she said. "Go get me something else."

Alexei looked completely exasperated. "Tell me, why am I with you again?" he demanded of no one in particular.

"I'm good in bed," she said promptly, and J.D sat straight up.

"That may be true," Alexei acknowledged, raising his glass to her. "However—"

"If you two are going to talk about sex, can I go home?" J.D asked, somewhat plaintively.

"No," they both said in unison, and Rain laughed.

When they'd been together in this, in the middle of this war, somehow, she'd never imagined _this_ was the way things would end up.

She'd thought Alice and Matt would be together, would be married and have perfect little blond children; her and J.D would share an apartment, and Michael would go off and become some world famous scientist that would occasionally deign to come and visit every once in awhile.

She'd never imagined this—her, J.D, and Alexei actually _staying_. Michael, off teaching English to a classroom full of students. Alice, off and alone and probably more peaceful than she'd ever been with them.

And as unorthodox as this was, as completely apart from her original vision of her future it had become—somehow, she wouldn't change a thing.

Somehow, things were probably better this way.

**xxxxx**

The sun was alight in the sky, turning everything it touched to pale, pale shades of gold that glimmered and sparkled, lighting up the soft covering of snow and making it sparkle like diamonds.

The trees were empty and bare, covered in the same pale sheen; in the middle of early March, birds were returning, and their chirping filled the air with the melody of warmth, of happiness, of spring.

Under the blue sky, a figure kneeled on the ground, her blond hair sparkling in the winter sunlight.

There was a brief, quiet wind in the air, and as she spoke, it lifted her voice and carried the words away, up into the sky, into the clouds and light.

"It's over."

Two simple words, and she shifted slightly; as the months passed, it was getting harder and harder to find a comfortable position here.

As comforting as it was to stay here, to be so close to him, eventually she was going to have to leave Vegas; whether she returned to her own hometown in Germany or reunited with her friends in Washington, eventually she was going to have to leave—it was better for everyone.

The snow was cold, inching through her skin; but the sunlight on her back was warm, and she felt content.

The war wasn't over; Umbrella wasn't finished. She knew that.

They had destroyed it's people, it's base; everything they could reach in the time they'd been given.

But if there was one thing they'd all learned about Umbrella, it was exactly how resourceful it's agents could be—and she was certain that, given enough time, they would be up and running again.

But not in her time, not in their time. They had fought a war, all of them—Rain's impulsiveness, J.D's strategy, Michael's at times painful vision, and even Alexei's inside knowledge, and she had led them the best she could.

She hoped she'd done well.

She loved them, and she missed them, but she wasn't ready to return, not yet; she only hoped they could understand why.

They had spent so much time locked into this war, so much time locked into a chaotic battle of pain and rage and shattered hopes; and yet, somehow, had found each other, all of them.

She had hated Michael for what he had done; but he had kept her going. She had envied their utterly intangible innocence, the kind bred from having the ones you loved directly at your side, and that innocence had kept her hope alive.

In the end, it was that hope, perhaps, that had shattered so badly.

In the end, it was that hope, ultimately, which had fostered her survival.

In the end, it had all been worth it.

And even so…

"Umbrella will return," she said, her voice raspy and quiet in the cool morning air. "They'll return, and a new war will begin; and someone else will fight it, someone else will love and lose and go on living in a world oblivious."

"But for now, it's over. Thanks to the everyone who fought this war; thanks to Michael, thanks to Rain, thanks to J.D, Alexei, Kaplan. Thanks to us."

"Thanks to _you_," she whispered.

For the first time, a single tear slid down her cheek, and fell harmlessly into the snow below her, where it caught the winter sunlight and sparkled, and she was reminded, in a bittersweet slew of memories, of the newfound lack of discrepancy between light and darkness—the horror, the bitterness, that had wound itself in and out of every last hope, every last option; every time she'd kissed Matt and wondered if it was their last goodbye.

And she remembered the happiness; the times Matt would hold her close and kiss her; the times Rain and J.D would try, awkwardly, to comfort her; Michael's acceptance of the burden she had placed upon him, the weighted responsibility of leading their group.

With every moment of pain had come some sort of happiness; and every moment of darkness and despair had led to new rays of hope. Darkness had emitted into sunlight, a light that shone through heaven and hell and the icy winter stagnancy of losing Matt; new death had led into life, and she was left irrevocably aware of the twisted moments of irony in which life worked in a world inverted and chaotic.

And looking back, she regretted no gesture she had made, no reckless decisions or impossible hope she'd allowed herself to feel—because it, all of it, had been done in love, and for that she had no regrets.

"For now, we're safe—I'm safe, thanks to you."

Her hand, resting gently on top of her headstone, freezing their with the numbness of winter as if she could still, somehow, reach forward and touch him, reach him, moved downwards gently in a sort of caress, sort of hello, sort of goodbye.

With her other hand, she touched her stomach, and smiled, feeling, not for the first time, and not for the last, as if Matt were right here, standing next to her.

As he had been, and always would be.

"And so is our child," she whispered.

Planting on last kiss on the headstone, she stood and walked away.

_There will come a time when you believe everything is finished… that will be the beginning._

**xxxx END xxxx**


End file.
